@steve-rogers this is literally all your fault, you’re welcome
Barnes breathes in the night air, letting it rattle with his cigarette smoke in that soft spot near his lungs. Cloudless. It’s been a while since it’s been calm enough for him to note the state of the sky. It was only going to be a sharp inhale before tomorrow, but that’s all he’d ever needed to brace himself. It was all he’d ever needed, period.
“Barnes, you’re alone.”
He crushes the embers beneath his heel. “Thought you were busy tearin’ up the dancefloor, Cap.”
He looks up and- God, Steve’ll never stop looking like he was carved out of marble and made soft. Made human. His smile curves privately, and who the hell taught him how to do that? “I believe people are starting to retire, but I was saving my last dance.”
“Who’s the lucky bozo?”
“I was hoping you might be.”