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Steve had always attributed it to jealousy. He walked around jealous of Bucky, of his body and his charm and his way with women. His tendency to zone out while watching Bucky’s lips was because envied the allure of Bucky’s words, and the way he got to kiss any dame he wanted and who wanted him with those lips, those fucking perfect lips. Steve burned with something, with resentment, of course, when Bucky stood too close and towered over Steve, just proving that he was more attractive, more beautiful than Steve would ever be.
Or that’s what he had thought.
But now, in the dark corners of his mind, Steve has to face the truth. The tug on his sternum is not out of bitterness but desire. Why else would he pretend it’s Bucky’s hand on him when he touches himself? Why else can’t he get Bucky out of his mind?
Armed with this new self-destructive information, Steve just wants to run away. Bucky will never feel the same, that much is clear. And men like Steve don’t get a happy ever after.
Best to just ignore it as much as he can. Eventually, Bucky will settle down and he and Steve won’t see each other as much. Steve will always be his friend, no doubt about that. They’re family, at this point, and Steve wouldn’t change it for the world. Even if it means suppressing how he really feels.
And Steve will get over it. He’ll survive. He always does.
In the short term, though, the plan isn’t enough. Bucky comes home late a few times a week, his shirt rumpled and his hair tousled, sometimes with fresh bruises blossoming on his neck. It always sends Steve into a tailspin.
One night, Bucky stumbles in with a goofy grin on his face. “Hey-a, Stevie,” he says, hanging up his coat.
Steve tries to curl up into his own body, make himself even smaller, because the harsh mix of craving and fury he’s projecting must be so obvious. “How was your night?” he manages in a groggy voice.
“Fantastic,” Bucky replies, plopping down on the other side of the couch. He slaps Steve’s thigh playfully but all it does is send heat right to Steve’s core. “When are you gonna come out with me? You’d like it.”
“I’d like all the dames wishing they were dancing with you instead of me?” Steve grumbles.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Any gal would be lucky to have ya. Just need to find the right one.” He leans in. “Because when you do… damn.” His eyes are gleaming, twinkling, his lips slightly parted and pinker than usual, and he’s looking at Steve with an intensity that makes him want to melt.
But he just inhales sharply and pulls back. “So I take it you found the new Mrs. Barnes tonight?”
Bucky tilts his head back and laughs. “God, no. I know how we were raised and all, but there’s a lot of fun to be had before marriage, I think.”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” Bucky’s never been one to kiss and tell, not really. He’s let a few details slip when he’s had too much to drink before, but Steve can tell when he’s drunk and he certainly isn’t right now.
“I’m telling you, pal,” Bucky says, “We gotta get you out there.”
“And you expect me to just get that far looking like this?” Steve mumbles, and he knows he sounds pathetic but he can’t help it.
“Looking like a pretty face? Sparkling blue eyes?” Bucky’s teasing but Steve’s heart swells anyway. He wishes Bucky could really mean those words. “Maybe you just need some moves,” he adds.
“And what, you’re gonna teach me?” Steve jokes before he really thinks it through.
“If that’s what it takes!” Bucky declares, gallant as a knight. “Come here, first you gotta know how to dance.” He leaps up, his night on the town apparently not having drained his energy.
Steve gets up reluctantly, trying to appear nonchalant, but his heart is beating out of his chest. It’s just dancing, he tells himself. But no one’s ever danced with him before.
“I’ll lead first,” Bucky tells him. “To show you how it’s done.”
Steve rolls his eyes because he isn’t going into this blind. He’s watched Bucky dance before. He’s practiced a few steps in his room by himself and hadn’t been completely hopeless.
But now he steps onto Bucky’s foot within seconds. Maybe he had been a little hopeless.
“Relax,” Bucky says lightly, taking Steve’s hands. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
Steve’s instinct to roll his eyes again is overpowered by the feel of Bucky’s hands holding his. Steve might have large hands for his size, but Bucky’s are still bigger and Steve feels his skin getting hot at the sight of them touching, making him feel small but for once, in the best way.
“All leading is is confidence,” Bucky tells him. “You don’t have to know all the steps, but as long as you look like you know what you’re doing, it’s enough.”
Steve swallows and nods, his eyes transfixed on Bucky’s face.
“Women like authority,” Bucky continues, while beginning to dance. “Well, not always. But I think it’s generally what they expect from us.”
“I’m sure I can learn to dance, but I don’t know how you’re gonna teach me how to be confident overnight.”
Bucky sways them, and Steve’s mesmerized about how easily this comes to him. And how easily it comes to Steve to let him take the lead.
“You’re damn confident when you’re out picking fights,” Bucky notes.
“That’s different.”
“Well, this is just the first of many lessons. I’ll teach you my ways.”
Steve likes the sound of that, if only so he can pretend to be the object of Bucky’s affection. Even just dancing with him like this just feels right. If only it could be real.
Bucky shows him a faster dance after that, and gives him tips, and smiles brighter than the sun. But Steve’s head is still earlier in the evening, just him and Bucky swaying peacefully in slow motion, alone in the quiet of their apartment.
Bucky doesn’t bring up the dance lessons, or any of the other lessons he promised, for a while. He continues staying out late on the weekends, while Steve stays in, sometimes bitter, sometimes lost in his lust, sometimes both.
It’s the end of summer, the days of endless sun and irritating heat, when Bucky comes home past midnight, flying through the door, his shirt half undone, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.
“You just get back from the Olympics or something?” Steve quips, looking back down at the book in his hands because seeing Bucky panting is having more of an effect on him than he’d like.
“Ha-ha,” Bucky says, his voice barely making it out of his throat. He comes and sits by Steve on the couch like he did the night they danced. “I had to make a run for it.”
“Why, you starting trouble again?”
“That’s your job, punk,” Bucky replies. “I was with this dame, in the alley by her place, and her goddamn brother walks by and catches us.”
Steve just laughs.
“I mean, she was nice and all, but not worth getting killed,” Bucky adds, smiling.
“I hope you weren’t… you know… in an alley,” Steve says, putting his book down and trying to give Bucky a disappointed look, but his amusement breaks through.
“Just kissing,” Bucky assures him. “I’m a gentleman, Stevie.”
Steve practically snorts at that. “I somehow doubt your kissing is very gentlemanly.”
“What, and you’ve been a saint every time you’ve kissed a girl?”
“I’ve never kissed anyone, Buck,” Steve admits, looking down at his hands.
“Yes, you have- Edie when you were eleven and I was twelve!”
Steve raises his eyebrows, surprised that Bucky’s able to summon that memory so quickly. “That wasn't real,” he says. “She ran over and gave me a peck on the lips because her friends made her.”
Bucky thinks. “Lucy! The one in our art class.”
“Pretty sure she only talked to me to talk to you.”
“What about Anna? You took her on a few dates back in school.”
“She kissed me on the cheek twice, but that’s it.”
“You didn’t kiss her?”
“I didn’t know how!” Steve protests. “I guess I wanted to, but I don’t know…”
“Well, a dame’s not likely to make the first move. She’ll stand close, she’ll wait, she’ll kiss you on the cheek twice, but you gotta do it.”
“Do what, exactly?”
“Here, lemme show you,” Bucky says, adjusting himself on the couch so he’s closer to Steve, facing him.
“Show me?” Steve repeats, his heart speeding up.
“Only if you want,” Bucky tells him, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “It doesn’t count.”
Doesn’t count. Steve takes a deep breath. Yeah, this doesn’t count. Bucky’s just helping him out. It’s fine.
“Yeah, okay,” Steve replies, looking up at Bucky’s big blue eyes.
Bucky’s face quirks into a smile for a second before he leans forward and sweeps a piece of hair off of Steve’s forehead. He lets his hand linger there, and drags it along the side of Steve’s face lightly. A barely-there touch and Steve is already gone.
“Be gentle,” Bucky says quietly. “And go slow. Anticipation is half the game.”
Steve nods, his eyes glued to Bucky’s face, his big blue eyes, and his soft-looking lips.
“Then you lean in so close that it’s impossible to mistake what you’re doing,” Bucky whispers, leaning in so that he’s inches away from Steve’s face.
Steve closes his eyes and feels Bucky’s hot breath on his lips. What he’s wanted for so long, what he didn’t even know he wanted at all, is about to happen. They’re moments apart when Bucky pulls back, whipping his head so fast that a rush of cold air floods Steve’s immediate surroundings, his eyes opening abruptly at the reaction.
Bucky clears his throat. “On second thought, we probably shouldn’t.” He looks away, looks at anything but Steve, and says, “We don’t need the neighbors thinking anything, right?”
Steve just blinks. “Yeah,” he agrees, after a minute, still reeling from the almost-kiss. When he’s sat with the shock of it long enough, the feeling morphs into embarrassment, his face flushing red and sweat dripping down his neck. He was gonna let Bucky kiss him, Bucky of all people. Everybody, every woman, wants him; he would probably think Steve’s little crush on him is gross.
Maybe he could tell it meant more to Steve, and that’s why he stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t count if Steve were normal, but he’s not.
Bucky’s stuck by him his whole life. Through being sick and getting into fights and losing his Ma, Bucky’s been right at his side. But being a queer… that’s different. He doesn’t expect Bucky will want to stick around for that. Who could blame him?
The two of them sit there, emerged in the awkward almost, neither wanting to be the first one to move, or say anything. Eventually, it’s Steve who walks away first, a tear slipping down his face, caused by his myriad of agonizing thoughts, as he walks into his bedroom and shuts the door.
They pretend it didn’t happen. Steve guesses he can’t expect anything else. What’s Bucky supposed to do? He was trying to teach him how to be good with dames, and Steve revealed too much, that he’s not interested in dames at all. Worse, he’s interested in his best friend, and his best friend only.
But Bucky has been spending more, if not all, nights in. Maybe he’s trying to make sure Steve’s feelings don’t get hurt. That sounds more like the Bucky Steve knows, not the unempathetic, disgusted man that Steve keeps making up in his anxious brain. But he can’t help it. He knows being gay is wrong. There’s a reason it all happens in the shadows.
A few weeks pass, shrouded in silence, in clumsy mumblings and guilty yearning. The air between them is stale and buzzing at the same time. It’s as if they both know something has changed, but neither will admit it.
Then one night, Bucky comes home with an indignant look on his face, throwing the door open like he’s in a movie.
“What’s got you all riled up?” Steve asks, setting aside his sketchbook. He closes it; Bucky doesn’t need to know he was drawing him again.
Bucky closes the door and marches towards Steve and he should be scared because he’s the one who’s supposed to be angry and passionate and a little firecracker all the time, but he’s not, because when Bucky gets like this, it’s for very good reason.
Bucky looks down at him and his expression softens. “I just had an awful date,” he admits, the temper seeping out of his body. “Awful.”
“And what’s so bad about that?” Steve doesn’t mean to be insensitive, but it’s not the end of the world. Bucky’s got a million chances to get it right.
“It’s- I… I’m sick of trying.” Bucky sits down on the couch next to Steve, just like he does every night when he gets home from a date.
“Just because this one was bad doesn’t mean tha-”
“It wasn’t just this one!” Bucky puts his head in his hands. “It’s all of them.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. Bucky almost always seems like he has a good time when he goes out. He may not keep each girl around for that long, but he’s never complained.
“I’m sure soon you’ll find who you’re looking for, Buck.” God, it pains him to say this, but he has to. “I mean, you always say I’m gonna find someone, and look at me.” Bucky does. “And you’re… you. You can have anyone you want.”
“I want you,” he whispers, so faintly that Steve’s sure he misheard him.
Steve’s eyes widen. “What?”
Bucky looks away. “I know you don’t think of me like that and I’m not supposed to-”
“I want you, too,” Steve says loudly, cutting him off.
Bucky freezes. “You do?”
Steve can’t believe this is real. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, blood rushing to his face, but all of it melts away, every other feeling in the world melts away when Bucky leans forward and brushes his lips on Steve’s.
It’s magical, for a moment, and then it’s desperate. Bucky wastes no time pulling Steve onto his lap and slipping his tongue inside his mouth. He runs his hands through Steve’s hair, and it’s so much, everything is so much, but it’s too good to stop. Steve steadies himself by putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and kisses back with all the spirit he has, messy as his technique may be.
He feels like he’s on fire, like he’s pure gold, bright enough to burn a hole in the ceiling of their apartment.
They don’t stop, can’t stop for a while, especially when Steve starts writhing on Bucky’s lap, making them both hard. But they can’t even tear their lips away to deal with that. It’s like kissing is the cure to every woe they’ve ever had, and they’re never gonna stop.
But they do have to, after a few minutes, because Steve’s never done this, and he’s also asthmatic. He pulls away, practically heaving, but with the biggest smile on his face.
“Fuck, you okay?” Bucky asks, swiping Steve’s hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve breathes, trying to regain control of his lungs.
They sit there like that for a bit as Steve’s body relaxes and he stills in Bucky’s lap.
“Oh, my God,” he says, finally, looking up at Bucky.
Bucky smiles, looking as blissed out as Steve feels. “Yeah.”
“You- you’re-” Steve struggles to find the words.
“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember.”
Steve’s jaw drops a little at that. “Then, what- you were- what were you-” he splutters. “All your dates!”
Bucky looks down. “Just trying to ignore it.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own. “I thought it wasn’t right, thought you - God, I had to do something, because I couldn’t have you.”
Steve feels all the clouds in his brain clear, the confusion, the narrative he’d created for Bucky without even checking that it was real, it all evaporates, and left standing is this man who wants him, actually wants him.
“You can have me now,” Steve says quietly, rocking his hips into Bucky’s.
“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, before grabbing hold of the back of his neck and bringing him in for another kiss, this one deeper and sweeter and true.
But now Steve knows that they’ll have plenty of time to do it all, everything they want to. Right now, he needs Bucky immediately, any way he can have him.
So he starts to fumble with the fly on Bucky’s pants, asking, “Is this okay?” into his mouth. Bucky groans and starts working Steve’s pants in response. Bucky finds his dick first, gently gripping his through his underwear then guiding it out into the open.
“Shit,” Steve mumbles, arching into the touch, before pulling out Bucky’s dick. He strokes his hand up it slowly, causing Bucky to buck his hips forward and grunt.
Without another word, they start jerking each other off as fast as they can, their mouths closer to gasping for each other rather than kissing at this point. Steve feels high listening to Bucky’s choked-off moans and his own whimpers, which get louder by the second. The pressure builds up inside of him farther than he thought it could go until it gives way and Steve comes all over Bucky’s hand, panting. He pulls his mouth away, just to breathe, and his vision goes double for a second.
Bucky looks like he’s about to say something, but Steve comes back to himself, quickly resuming moving his hand on Bucky, and cuts him off. He’s still buzzing with the aftershocks, and seeing the head of Bucky’s cock dip in and out of sight almost makes him hard again.
Steve notices Bucky’s hips lurching wildly to increase the pace, so he puts a second hand around Bucky’s dick and stills them both, whispering, “Fuck my hand.”
The moan Bucky responds with is obscene, and he takes his hands off Steve to brace himself on the couch, before thrusting up into Steve and shit, if that isn’t something. Steve doesn’t know where to look: at the cock in his hands, imagining it fucking into his mouth, his ass, or up at Bucky’s face, twisted in pleasure, on the edge of release.
“Steve, oh my God,” he utters, finally, before shooting off onto Steve’s hand, and onto his shirt a little. Bucky rides out the feeling, slowly but not completely stilling his hips, just sliding in and out, pace receding until he sits back and exhales loudly.
Steve can’t help but grin. He can’t keep the joy off of his face, the euphoria from the intimacy, yes, but also from reveling in the fact that Bucky is his now, and he’s Bucky’s. That there’s nothing wrong with it, because how could something about what they just did be wrong? It was perfect.
He rests his chest on Bucky’s and hides his face in his neck, curling into him like they’re one.
“I liked that a lot,” he says softly, pressing a light kiss to Bucky’s pulse point.
“I love you,” Bucky says in response, his voice hoarse.
Steve pulls away to look him in the eye, makes sure he means it. He does.
“I love you, too, Buck,” Steve says, before snuggling back into him.
Bucky kisses the top of his head. “I was such an idiot, dancing with you, pretending it was lessons.” He laughs. “I just wanted an excuse to be close to you.”
“In that case, are there any more things you have to teach me?” Steve smirks into Bucky’s skin.
“I can think of a few things we both could learn together,” Bucky says with a smile in his voice.
“Deal.”