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Bucky wakes to moonlight, watching its glow cascade in through the window and bleed out onto the sheets and to the floor below.
A hush falls over the Tower, the quiet almost maddening. The hollow hum of his air purifier is the only thing that keeps Bucky from losing his mind and—oh. He’s flushed red from the heat inside despite the biting cold outside and whilst ignoring his greater instincts, he lays back down to curl up under the throw over Steve had offered him. Through Bucky’s angry tears and shouts and wails, Steve’s face remained the same. Yelena and Ava struggled to hold him back that night—and when Bucky stormed back to his quarters, knees giving out from underneath him, he fell face first into the cream throw and promptly inhaled.
It felt like a dream, it was a nightmare. Steve had come back… and for what? What would he gain? The apologies Steve murmured felt like acid being spit on to his skin. But, oh, he couldn’t deny himself. Steve’s words were always honeyed; tender promises wrapped in chaste kisses.
“You don’t get to promise me something, throw it away, and then beg for forgiveness,” his own words shook his own self to the core. “That’s not how you go about life, Rogers.”
Those fleeting, ephemeral memories kept him afloat—the only things he had left. And now everything’s shattered under the weight of Steve’s choice to come back and beg for a second chance like he’s deserving, like he’s earned it.
But Bucky’s never been able to say no to Steve. Even as he curls further in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut, his heart thudding quickly and quietly in his chest.
*
There’s a quiet that fills the air; everything is tense and thick and heavy lately. The smell of cigarettes wafts through the hallways with Bucky catching glimpses of Steve whenever he comes by to visit. Bob looks upon him with wide eyes and a crooked smile, enamored with the bright glory that is Steve Rogers.
Ava knocks on his door one night, gently opening it and stepping inside, Yelena tailing behind her. They’ve formed a bond of sorts since the New Avengers were formed and Bucky can’t help but smile at the two women, watching them place a tray of snacks on his bed.
They make small talk, comfortable in each other’s silence. That’s what Bucky liked about them—words needn’t be tossed back and forth. They could just be.
He sensed the way the two pieced everything together when Steve appeared on their doorstep; a lightbulb flickering above both their heads. Bucky, however, stayed weary.
The days drag on, and Bucky finds himself trailing after the scent of menthol, leading him to the front, watching Steve already riding off into the sunset. His fingers twitch at his sides.
Sometimes Steve does come to see him. He knocks on his door, letting himself inside, and as Bucky blinks, Steve is on his knees in front of him, laying his head against his thighs. He stays silent, and Bucky prefers it that way. His fingers lift, carding themselves through wisps of golden locks.
It’s a tragic game; a bittersweet dance.
Bucky told himself he’d have to fall in love all over again, to tumble through the trials of devotion once more.
But one thing about Bucky: he’s one hell of a liar.
Steve makes tea for the two of them.
The rest of the Tower is asleep, the gentle clinking of glasses filling the kitchen. The mugs are glass and mint green, one’s Bucky thrifted a few weeks ago. He wants to laugh at it all.
“What do you want, Steve?” Bucky sighs.
“I wanted to hear your voice,” Steve whispers.
The welling of tears burns momentarily and Bucky quickly sets down his mug, removing trembling fingers from where they’re wrapped in between the handle.
He swallows. “Well. You’ve heard it.”
He stands up from his chair and steps into the hallway, letting his head loll back as Steve grabs his wrist and pulls him close. Tears spill down his cheeks and he’s so desperate.
“I can’t do this again, Steve. Please don’t,” Bucky whispers, his voice cracking.
Steve leans down to press their foreheads together.
“I found you again, oh Bucky, my Bucky, my Jules, I found you.” Steve murmurs against his skin.
Bucky pulls Steve by his hair to meet his lips and suddenly Bucky is back in his bedroom, the light of the moon illuminating them both.
He’s quickly slipped out of his clothes, trembling as Steve noses up his spine. He wraps his own arms around himself, goosebumps starting to dot along his skin. Flowers bloom where Steve’s lips meet against his bare skin and for the first time, Bucky feels alive.
He’s laid on to his belly, hips propped up with a pillow as Steve mouths over the back of his neck, spit-slick fingers pressing into his hole, his cock jumping slightly at the feeling.
His back arches, lights explode behind his eyelids as Steve gently fingers him open. He shivers, trembling at his touch, silently sobbing as Steve shushes him, his free hand rubbing soothingly at his hip.
His fingers, long and thick, brush against his prostate, making him flinch and whine and pressure starts to build. He can barely see, his eyes still not fully adjusted to the darkness enveloping his room—but all his mind can do is chant Steve over and over and over.
Bucky rolls over onto his back after Steve pulls out his fingers, cock hard against his belly. Steve removes the last of his clothes as he slots himself between his thighs, burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as he pushes himself inside.
“Steve!” Bucky gasps.
Perhaps he’s died and this is hell, forever tormented by what once was.
But, no, it’s real. It’s real.
Bucky’s nails rake down Steve’s back as his hips move, his cock filling him to the brim.
Bucky whimpers and gasps, desperately pulling Steve closer. More tears gather in his eyes.
Steve removes his head to plant hurried kisses all over his face. Bucky only now notices the tears that start to fall from Steve’s eyes as well.
Steve’s hips snap and Bucky wails, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist for purchase, the two coming in tandem.
“Let me love you again—let me not make the same mistake twice.” Steve’s voice breaks.
Bucky lets himself sink into the sea of love and grief as Steve’s words tattoo themselves across his heart.