The boys read some more fan fic and make fools of themselves in front of Tony. One of the fics gets a little smutty, there’s your warning!
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“Buck.” Steve cleared his throat, scratching along his chin uneasily. “There’s only one bed.”
“So?” Bucky tossed their bag onto the rickety chair near the window. “It’s a room, Stevie. We’ve been sleeping on th’ fuckin’ ground getting eaten alive by all sortsa bugs for six days. It’s a room, it’s a bed—“ Bucky tore the cap off a warm beer and took a long drink, grimacing at the taste. “— so I’m gonna pound this piss poor excuse for beer and pass out against that shitty lookin’ pillow. You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor if you’re gonna be weird about it.”
“I’m just saying it seems a little…” Steve cleared his throat again. “… I mean, after what happened I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me? Feels like things are maybe a little–”
“We has to snuggle for warmth.” Bucky interrupted. “It was raining, it was fuckin’ freezing, we needed body warmth, it is what it is. We got all cuddled up, you got a little morning wood, ended up humping me a little, it happens. We’re guys. Stop being stupid about it.”
“BUCKY!” Steve turned bright red. “It’s not like I mean to do– to do that!”
“It’s fine, Stevie.” A look Steve had never seen before flickered through Bucky’s eyes. “Wasn’t like I pushed you away, you know?”
“I guess you didn’t.” Steve said awkwardly, remembering in vivid detail how Bucky had grabbed at him for just a few seconds, how the metal fingers had felt digging into his thigh and pulling him into Bucky’s body again. “But you’re right. No reason for things to be weird, we’ll share a bed and I’ll try not to uh– to rub against you tonight.”
Bucky didn’t say anything to that, but his gaze dropped over Steve’s body, lingering below his waist until Steve started shifting nervously.
“Well then.” Bucky finally said. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll save you some water.”
“Yeah.” Steve dropped onto the bed, and then jumped right back up, somehow turning an even brighter shade of red, mortified over the direction his thoughts had suddenly gone, the thought of sharing a real bed with Bucky enough to make him–
“You got a real stupid look on your face right now, Stevie.” Bucky cracked a grin. “Stop over thinkin’ it, huh?”
The Stories We Write (Ch. Three)
Published
themusechronicles 