bakerstreet | Come back to you

Come back to you

Come Back to You

You can never stay in one place for too long, be the cause your own itching feet or less than pleasant circumstances keeping you on the run. Still, more often than not, you find yourself returning to the same old places, like animals returning from winter migration. Actually, you keep coming back to one person, because you know no matter where you roam, you'll always have a place with them...and in their bed.

Absence really does make the heart grow fonder with you two, so live in this moment. Who knows when you'll have to leave yet again?

① Comment with your character, info, preferences, and whether you want your character to be wandering one or the steady point.
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③ Thread. This doesn't have to be a smut meme, though it implies it. Just be clear in your prefs!

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"Tch." Steve can't help but let his mouth curl up into a grin that mirrors Bucky's. He lifts a hand to cover the one that's holding his cheek, and leans in to rest his forehead against Bucky's again.

"I'll just need - a little bit of time. Before...things get easier." But he does shift back on the bed, making room for Bucky, and surveys the other man with his head tilted. "Will you stay here? With me, tonight?" It's no surprise that Steve is still scared - scared that this is a momentary lapse, scared that this is a dream, scared that no matter what the scenario will always end in Bucky leaving again. And he doesn't want to hold it against Bucky, god, that's the last thing he wants to do, but there's a wariness that feels like it's settled deep in his bones. And well, as for the intimacy - Steve would feel like he's taking advantage, somehow, that maybe Bucky's too vulnerable right now. Maybe it's Steve's own vulnerability holding him back, too. But the kiss he presses to Bucky's mouth is deep and sweet and holds promises of soon, of next time, we're almost there.

Bucky's guilt flares up in his chest, constricting and heavy, making it hard for him to breathe.

It causes the smirk to fall away, reminds him as fast as the crack of a whip just how screwed up he is. He's just hurt Steve and he's already trying to get him to fuck him. He knows that it's not right, his behavior, and that he should be trying to earn Steve's trust back, not trying to get into his pants. His breath is shaky when Steve draws back from the kiss, filled with all the hope that only Steve can offer, and a sweet, perfect kind of kiss that he knows he doesn't deserve.

"Yeah, just. Give me a minute," he mutters, chin dropping to his chest. Bucky takes a moment to get himself together, and then he nods, pushing up from his knees to stand.

"Lemme change into something else."

He's pulling his clothes off then, dumping them into the hamper in the corner and tugging open drawers to find a pair of sweats to put on.

"Nah," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to Bucky, "c'mere like that. You're warm."

Steve knows Bucky well enough to know exactly what he's thinking when his mannerisms change, when his mouth twists into a frown. He won't push Bucky, though, not into trying to understand because no matter what he tells him, Buck's gonna beat himself up about things. So the only thing he can think of is to somehow make Bucky feel that Steve isn't upset with him, so that's what he'll try.

"You should let me draw you. Arm and all. Used to sit for me back before the war, remember?"

Bucky stops searching, turning back towards Steve with all the vulnerability that he tries to hide splashed across his face. His brows are furrowed, mouth pinched into a firm line. He's got nothing but his briefs on, but he knows Steve doesn't care. He crosses the room to take Steve's hand, pushing him back onto the bed and coming down with him.

He pulls the blanket up to Steve's hips, curling up beside him and resting his cheek against his stomach. Bucky's favorite spot, right in the middle of Steve, and he can trace the lines of his abs and hips when he's bored.

"Yeah, I remember. You can draw me whenever you want to, Steve."

He splays a hand out across his navel, palm warm and still.

"You know I wouldn't mind that."

"'Kay," he mumbles.

Something settles in Steve once they're both in bed - a sense of ease, maybe, that's washing over him as well, fingers habitually slipping into Bucky's hair. He combs through it with more purpose than usual, though, taking an extra moment to detangle gently where needed and brushes it off of Bucky's face, letting it splay delicately onto his stomach.

He feels better when Bucky's nearby. The warmth of his body is comforting in the silence that falls over them now that the novelty of the Fourth of July has worn off and the streets have started to quiet down as much as they were going to (which, honestly, wasn't much), both the moon and streetlights outside filtering in to light the bedroom up a little bit.

"You have to know that I love you no matter what," he murmurs, still raking his fingers through Bucky's hair. "And I'm gonna fuck up too, and I hope you can still love me when that happens."

Bucky tenses and curls inward when Steve speaks. He always knows exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it to make Bucky feel like he's not the biggest fuck up. He'll never deserve having him in his life, but Bucky knows he really needs to work harder to at least show that he appreciates it.

"There's nothing that'll ever make me stop loving you, Steve."

The words are spoken quietly, but with all the conviction Bucky possesses. Even when he hates himself for what he's done or doing, when he thinks Steve can do better, when the world steps on them both, always and until the end of the line, Bucky'll love Steven Grant Rogers.

"Don't forget that."

His fingers curl, and he presses his face harder to Steve's stomach, trying to burrow in so he never gets lost again.

"I get scared," Steve admits. His fingers pause for a moment but start up their combing motions again. "I used to have this nightmare - not the one of you falling that I told you about, this one I never said anything about. It was," Steve pauses and swallows, turning his head to look out the window while he speaks. "it was about you leaving, or someone taking you, I don't know, all that would happen is I would get up and you'd be gone and all of your things would be gone and it looked like you were never even there and - and sometimes, I wake up thinking that's real."

It's the first time Steve's recounted that nightmare out loud - but he figures doing so will at least ease Bucky's guilt, and help him justify Steve's initial panic.

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd feel guilty and - you shouldn't. Not anymore. I just." Steve exhales, shaky, and glances down at Bucky, mumbling out, almost childishly, "I just want you to be happy and I don't know how to do that."

"Why didn't you tell me, Steve?"

Bucky lifts his head, eyes on the blond's face. His expression is stoic again, closed off to hide the hurt bubbling up inside of him. He's done it. The one thing that scares Steve more than anything else and he'd done it out of a selfish need to find whatever it was that he thought was missing inside himself. He's glad to know now that home, all those missing parts, can be found right inside of Steve, but he would give up that clarity to take away Steve's pain.

"I could have- I wouldn't have." He presses his lips together, pushing himself to the side and rolling onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling seems to be easier, at least for right now. "You're the only thing good in my life. You make me happier than I have any right to be. And all I do is treat you like shit, Steve."

Steve doesn't deserve any of this and he doesn't deserve any of Bucky's guilt or self-loathing. Rolling further over onto his side away from Steve, he tucks a hand under his head, wide awake.

"We should get some shut eye."

It does exactly the opposite of what Steve wanted it to do.

Maybe it was misguided, thinking that Bucky would see the dream the same way and justify why Steve's panic overtook any more logical faculties. But that didn't work out and instead, he's afraid he's pushed Bucky away even more and - and that sucks

What sucks more, though, is the fact that Bucky's shifted away from Steve, and that leaves his side feeling cold and empty.

"Bucky," he murmurs, adjusting his body just enough to reach out and touch his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't tell you to upset you, I just wanted you to know why I was scared, not because I don't trust you, just because - because it was an irrational fear. Please, come back here." He knows neither of them will be able to fall asleep apart like this, not after being separated for weeks.

"It's not irrational if I make that fear a reality."

Bucky's voice is harsh, but it's directed at himself, never at Steve. He's tense under the hand on his shoulder, breathing heavily, self-depreciating to the point he's dizzy with it.

"I regret leavin' like that even if it helped me realize what I want."

He rolls back over slowly, enough space between them that Steve can reach him but Bucky's not touching him.

"I love you and I'm not going to leave again. Not as long as the choice is mine to make."

"That's all I can ask for. Hell, that's all I want, Buck. Everything else," he huffs a bit, shifting closer and tucking himself against Bucky's frame (now a little softer, a little smaller than it had been when Steve had found Bucky in Budapest) with his face pressed into the curve of the other man's neck, "everything else we deal with is so fuckin' complicated. Just - just this one part of our lives can be simple. The fact that I love you, y'jerk, and that you love me too."

He's the first person to know it's not as easy as Steve just saying all this, just easily forgiving Bucky (because he always, always will) but all he can offer Bucky right now is his words and his love, and hope it's enough.

With extreme care, Steve begins trailing soft kisses along the side of Bucky's neck, innocent and gentle. "Tell me again, though. That you love me. I want to hear it again."

Bucky wraps the arm not folded underneath him around Steve, using gravity and a little effort to roll them both over so that Steve is more on top of him and Bucky can hold him close. He's spent his whole life knowing that he'll never be good enough enough for Steve Rogers, but it works for him because it means he gets to try and earn that right. He gets to be loved by a man who'd do anything for him, who'd forgive him no matter what kind of shit he puts him through, and Bucky thinks he's the luckiest guy in the world for it.

"I love you."

He tips his head up, the hard line of his mouth softening with each light kiss.

"I love you, Steve."

The words crash over Steve like a tidal wave, something he's never really prepared for.

Steve spent a lot of time thinking about Bucky, after he'd been dragged out of the river that fateful day. And he'd found himself wondering about his Bucky, everything came back to his Bucky and - well, this Bucky, the Winter Soldier, that's not Steve's Bucky anymore - that Steve's Bucky, the one he remembered from nights dancing with pretty girls in Brooklyn, the Bucky that waltzed through life with a carefree demeanour that he'd always envied, didn't exist anymore. It had only taken him a moment that the old Bucky belonged to a Steve that didn't exist anymore, either.

And now, curled up on a bed that's more comfortable than anything they'd ever had when they were kids, big enough for them to shift around as much as they just had, this Steve has his Bucky, and this Bucky has his Steve. For a moment, all is well.

He lets himself be held this time, eyes falling shut. "...have you eaten properly?" Because that's the first thing that crosses his mind as soon as he relaxes.

Bucky's always surprised, still, with how easy it is for them to hold each other this way. Back when Steve was smaller, sometimes when he'd been sick and his ma and Bucky'd both been worried, he'd hold him close and their bodies would just fit. Now Steve's so much bigger, Bucky, too, and they can still curl up together and just fit. It's almost like something larger than themselves is trying to remind them that they'd always end up here, that they'd get to this point eventually because it's always where they were meant to be.

He wraps his arm tighter, breathes in slow and deep, and then he freezes.

"Let's not talk about that right now, Steve." Because they both know the answer to that and it'll just make Steve unhappy.

"I won't be upset," he insists - and it's true, he'll mostly feel concerned, worried. But he leaves it at that, knowing Bucky doesn't want to talk about it, and instead focuses on Bucky's warmth against him, tucking his face into the curve of Bucky's neck and just leaving it there, comfortable.

Instead, he starts thinking about breakfast tomorrow.

"Could we go for pancakes, tomorrow? That diner nearby? I'll just have to make sure you're well-fed in the morning." His words start slurring together, and for the first time in weeks, Steve finds himself calm, finds sleep greeting his usually restless mind like an old friend. "You love pancakes, and I love you. Makes sense."

He knows Steve won't chastise him, he's not a kid, but he'll be worried. Even if he hides it well, Bucky'll still know. It's been a problem for a while now, going through stages of eating and not making it a priority. There were times when it's all he'd think about. Always at the market, ordering out, letting Steve try the recipes he's attempted, and then next thing, he spaces out and forgets completely. Won't remember to eat until Steve reminds him or his body does in some drastic way.

Bucky, light and easy, runs the tip of his finger across the span of Steve's shoulders. Steve's breath is warm on his neck, body even warmer tucked up against him, a steady and comfortable weight that reminds him that he's home. Home's right here.

"As long as it's not your morning. I ain't getting up that early, Steve," he whispers, judging the slurring words and the way Steve's body starts going lax for what it is.

It feels strange and good, though, the sensation of sleep washing over him - like his body's responding to Bucky being back, and safe, and with him. He's at ease again - and perhaps lucky for Bucky, he's too tired to really protest or express more concern...right now, at least.

Steve sighs, soft and breathy, and tugs the comforter over the lower halves of their bodies, more for comfort than warmth.

"You say that," he starts, the amusement obvious in his voice, despite the fatigue that's pushing through, "but you'd get up early for me, if I asked you to. But, no, we'll go when you wake up. Even if that's dinnertime."

Fingers curled, he rubs his knuckles in slow circles across Steve's back, pressing his palm and tracing small circles with his thumb. He hopes Steve falls asleep peacefully, knows that the sound of his even breathing will lull Bucky in right after, and that they both really need it.

"I'd go right now if you asked," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve's head. It's not a secret that Bucky would do anything that Steve asked of him, no matter the size of the request. "But when we wake up again sounds better. Promise you'll sleep as long as you need it?"

That way Bucky worries a lot less about whether he's rested enough, and selfishly, so that he doesn't feel quite as guilty for being the reason that Steve hasn't been sleeping well.

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