anonymous asked:

If you don't have too many prompts all piled up in your inbox I'd love some pre-serum Steve having to take care of Bucky for once.

“You’re a dumbshit.”

“See, I’m nice to you when you get your ass kicked.” Bucky grunts as Steve prods his swollen cheekbone a little harder than necessary. 

“You give me nine shades of hell when I get my ass kicked. You’re always a jerk.” Steve prods the developing bruise again and Bucky’s sure he’s doing it on purpose. “I oughta kick your ass again right here, the hell were you thinking?”

“Pretty sure the beer was thinking for me at that point.” Bucky snipes back, which was clearly the wrong thing to say because Steve moves onto his fucked up shoulder with no more gentleness to his touch. 

Bucky sighs thickly through his bloody nose and grabs a washcloth from the bowl, holding it against his cheek with a hiss. He’s usually the one ending fights rather than getting in them, pulling Steve out of the fire, so he doesn’t understand why the guy’s getting all pissy now the tables are turned. Sure, Steve’s scraps are usually for more noble reasons than ‘didn’t want to pay his card debt’ (even if Bucky thinks some of them are equally stupid), but still. 

“The Morans, Buck. Really?” Steve’s still spitting mad after a few minutes of tense silence. Bucky’s shirt is pretty much only good for rags now, but Steve’s cleaned him up pretty well and made sure there’s nothing broken, at least. Which means it’s time to yell at him some more, of course. “You shouldn’t even be fucking playing with them, let alone-”

“I was drunk, okay? Christ.” Bucky lets his head roll back to rest against the cabinet, sitting on the counter like a kid. Steve had marched him there as soon as he opened the door, a direct mirror of their usual patterns - no matter that Steve struggles to reach his face that high. “It was a dumb mistake. I was just blowing off some steam.”

Steve throws Bucky’s ruined shirt in the sink with a wet slap, and when he turns around his expression is unreadable. Maybe it’s the buzz he’s still got drifting through his veins, but Bucky blinks in bewilderment when Steve grabs his undershirt and yanks him down so they’re eye level. 

“If you could not blow off steam in ways that’ll get you killed, I’d appreciate it.” His voice is clipped, but his fingers are suddenly gentler as he grabs Bucky’s chin, ostensibly to keep his attention. “You’re all I got in the world, asshole. I don’t need you leaving it too.”

There’s a whole world in the few inches between their faces now, as Bucky realises the anger behind those blue eyes is hiding fear, and something in him wants to just lean forward and touch…

“M’sorry.” He says quietly, afraid to break the spell. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Steve’s eyes flick to his lips again and he swallows hard before letting Bucky go, turning his attention back to the business of cleaning up. Bucky says bent over for a moment, blindsided by the fact he’s breathing hard and wants nothing more than to come up with some pretext to take Steve in his arms and hold him. 

What the hell?

“You should go to bed.” Steve says over his shoulder, clearly not ready to completely forgive Bucky for scaring him tonight. “You’re gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow.”

“Penance.” Bucky tries to sound contrite as he gingerly gets off the counter, aches and pains starting to set in. He tries to lighten the mood by ducking into Steve’s line of vision, because his chest feels weird about making Steve sad. “Gimme a Hail Mary and call it even?”

“You ain’t cute.” Steve tries to sound deadpan, but Bucky can see the slight lift in one corner of his mouth. Success. “Go to bed, asshole.”

Bucky bites his tongue and resists making a flirty joke back, like he usually would, because somehow it doesn’t really seem like a joke anymore. He gives in and goes to bed so he doesn’t have to think about that, passing out before he can see Steve watching him thoughtfully from the other side of the room. 


I am shaking this is so precious.