Title: A New Year Fandom: Captain America (Movies) Rating: Mature ish Relationships: pre war Steve/Bucky warning for alcohol
Bucky slings Steve onto the couch, letting him land heavily so the springs creak. Steve just hums happily to himself, toeing his shoes off as Bucky goes to get a glass of water. Not that Bucky's not well on the way to drunk himself, but somewhere around the fourth whiskey Bucky forgot that Steve doesn't hold his liquor as well.
“You don't got enough Irish in you to drink that much, Rogers,” Bucky says, coming back with the water to prop Steve's head up and settling on the couch with Steve's head on his thigh.
Steve snorts, grinning dopily against Bucky's leg. “You gonna fix that for me, Barnes?” Steve says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.
“You're a sloppy drunk,” Bucky says, unbuttoning Steve's shirt upside down and one handed.
“'m gonna puke on y'r shoes for that,” Steve says. He rolls his head on Bucky's thigh, warm and heavy, with that heavy lidded smile he gets when he wants to fuck. Bucky scrapes fingers over Steve's scalp and rolls his eyes again.
“Go ahead, you got nothing in your belly but alcohol, it'll probably get the floorboards cleaner'n they ever been.”
Steve laughs to himself, curling up on the couch and letting Bucky pet his hair. He's sweeter when he's drunk, or at least he lets Bucky be sweeter to him, all his sharp edges blunted a little when he's sleepy.
“You wanna fuck me?” Steve says after a minute, rolling his head on Bucky's leg to look at him. His hair's all messed around and his cheeks are flushed; of course Bucky wants to fuck him.
“You've got whiskey dick,” Bucky says. It's near midnight and they both work in the morning.
“So?” Steve says, under the mistaken impression that mulish is a seduction technique. “I can still suck you off after a fifth of whiskey, see if I don't.”
Bucky undoes one more of Steve's buttons, scratching blunt nails over Steve's collarbone and chest before pushing his hand down to twist Steve's nipple, and that shuts him up. Steve flushes to the roots of his hair and twists against Bucky's thigh upside down on the couch, and maybe he isn't all talk after all. He's flushed pretty and hard through his trousers when Steve opens his eyes again, fluttering when Bucky pinches a little harder and doesn't let go.
“C'mon, Buck, gotta start the new year how you want the rest to go,” Steve breathes. “'S bad luck if you don't fuck me.”
“Sure thing, Casanova,” Bucky says, letting go. “You can suck my dick after you drink some water.”
Steve makes a disgruntled noise, sitting up finally. “Gimme the water, mother superior,” Steve says, sounding ten times more sober as takes the glass and down the whole thing in one go because he's a stubborn little cuss. Not that sober, though, because he flops right back down across Bucky's lap and goes out inside two seconds, curled against the back of the couch. So much for the new year.
Bucky pets Steve's hair in the dark apartment, drifting while he tries to decide if it's worth carrying Steve to bed or dealing with the back ache in the morning.
Bucky's watch says it's two after midnight when he finally stretches out and tugs the scratchy spare blanket down over them. Forty-one was pretty good; forty-two will be better.
“Hey. Steve,” Bucky says, rubbing circles on Steve's back. “It's nineteen forty-two, happy new year.”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-01-08 02:47 am (UTC)Fandom: Captain America (Movies)
Rating: Mature ish
Relationships: pre war Steve/Bucky
warning for alcohol
Bucky slings Steve onto the couch, letting him land heavily so the springs creak. Steve just hums happily to himself, toeing his shoes off as Bucky goes to get a glass of water. Not that Bucky's not well on the way to drunk himself, but somewhere around the fourth whiskey Bucky forgot that Steve doesn't hold his liquor as well.
“You don't got enough Irish in you to drink that much, Rogers,” Bucky says, coming back with the water to prop Steve's head up and settling on the couch with Steve's head on his thigh.
Steve snorts, grinning dopily against Bucky's leg. “You gonna fix that for me, Barnes?” Steve says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.
“You're a sloppy drunk,” Bucky says, unbuttoning Steve's shirt upside down and one handed.
“'m gonna puke on y'r shoes for that,” Steve says. He rolls his head on Bucky's thigh, warm and heavy, with that heavy lidded smile he gets when he wants to fuck. Bucky scrapes fingers over Steve's scalp and rolls his eyes again.
“Go ahead, you got nothing in your belly but alcohol, it'll probably get the floorboards cleaner'n they ever been.”
Steve laughs to himself, curling up on the couch and letting Bucky pet his hair. He's sweeter when he's drunk, or at least he lets Bucky be sweeter to him, all his sharp edges blunted a little when he's sleepy.
“You wanna fuck me?” Steve says after a minute, rolling his head on Bucky's leg to look at him. His hair's all messed around and his cheeks are flushed; of course Bucky wants to fuck him.
“You've got whiskey dick,” Bucky says. It's near midnight and they both work in the morning.
“So?” Steve says, under the mistaken impression that mulish is a seduction technique. “I can still suck you off after a fifth of whiskey, see if I don't.”
Bucky undoes one more of Steve's buttons, scratching blunt nails over Steve's collarbone and chest before pushing his hand down to twist Steve's nipple, and that shuts him up. Steve flushes to the roots of his hair and twists against Bucky's thigh upside down on the couch, and maybe he isn't all talk after all. He's flushed pretty and hard through his trousers when Steve opens his eyes again, fluttering when Bucky pinches a little harder and doesn't let go.
“C'mon, Buck, gotta start the new year how you want the rest to go,” Steve breathes. “'S bad luck if you don't fuck me.”
“Sure thing, Casanova,” Bucky says, letting go. “You can suck my dick after you drink some water.”
Steve makes a disgruntled noise, sitting up finally. “Gimme the water, mother superior,” Steve says, sounding ten times more sober as takes the glass and down the whole thing in one go because he's a stubborn little cuss. Not that sober, though, because he flops right back down across Bucky's lap and goes out inside two seconds, curled against the back of the couch. So much for the new year.
Bucky pets Steve's hair in the dark apartment, drifting while he tries to decide if it's worth carrying Steve to bed or dealing with the back ache in the morning.
Bucky's watch says it's two after midnight when he finally stretches out and tugs the scratchy spare blanket down over them. Forty-one was pretty good; forty-two will be better.
“Hey. Steve,” Bucky says, rubbing circles on Steve's back. “It's nineteen forty-two, happy new year.”
“Happy new year,” Steve mumbles back.