[ For a second, Steve thinks muzzily that Bucky’s already asleep, maybe. If that’s the case, maybe he can just whisper what he wants to tell him anyway. It’s not something he expects an answer to, even if Bucky was wide awake — just something he has to say. Speak it out loud so that it becomes a tangible part of everything that's happened. Something he’s been thinking about since Bucky said it earlier, wanting to say it back but knowing that Bucky saying it in the heat of passion is one thing, and Steve saying it in the afterglow is another.
Steve feels his name against his neck, then, and if Bucky’s awake he sounds barely so, on the cusp of slumber. His hand in Bucky’s hair stills, finally; slides down a ways to rest on his back along with his other one, fingers splayed out. The alcohol, the exhaustion, the events of the night — all of them are catching up to Steve all at once, and try as he might to stay awake, the siren song of sleep is pulling him under. ]
… I dream about you, too.
[ Drowsy and soft, unable to keep the yearning out of it. His last lucid thought is the echo of Bucky’s voice calling him sweetheart. Then his eyes slide shut, his breathing slows out, and Steve allows himself to be lost to dreams. ]
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Steve feels his name against his neck, then, and if Bucky’s awake he sounds barely so, on the cusp of slumber. His hand in Bucky’s hair stills, finally; slides down a ways to rest on his back along with his other one, fingers splayed out. The alcohol, the exhaustion, the events of the night — all of them are catching up to Steve all at once, and try as he might to stay awake, the siren song of sleep is pulling him under. ]
… I dream about you, too.
[ Drowsy and soft, unable to keep the yearning out of it. His last lucid thought is the echo of Bucky’s voice calling him sweetheart. Then his eyes slide shut, his breathing slows out, and Steve allows himself to be lost to dreams. ]