bakerstreet | the floor is lava!!!

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[meme] characterization

the floor is lava!!!

Just share the bed with me.
For whatever reason, the floor is unacceptable as a place to sleep. It's messy, the dog is there, THE FLOOR IS LAVA, or maybe there's flooding. Who cares why it's not acceptable, it just isn't. Normally, that's not an issue, but tonight you have a friend over. Maybe it's the safest place, maybe it's tornado season and your house is the only one out of the path of the storm. Stop trying to figure out the details, just get over it and share the bed with that person! Sexy times are not required. Intimacy is not required. Just share the damn bed already.

Do you need options? Here! Have some options!

1. It's late. You're tired. Too tired to drive and THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
2. It's late. You're drunk. Too drunk. Honestly, how did you drink that much and not die? Should we take you to the hospital? Here, just stay in this bed with me. No, you can't sleep on the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
3. It's early. You thought you'd just come by and visit but you can barely function. The bed seems inviting. Guess what, you're invited into the bed! Yes. The bed. Not the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
4. DO YOU LIKE TO SPOON? SPOONING IS OKAY. And yes, the floor is lava.
5. Figure out a reason why you need to share the bed.
6. The Crack Fun Insane Option - Actually Play the Floor is Lava Game!! Move about the room without touching the floor... because the floor is lava.

Do you really need options? I feel like everyone gets the idea of this meme.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"But what if you're not the one who needs to make the change?" It's a quiet question, one he allows to fall into the small space between them. In the short time he's known Tony, it's been easy to see one simple fact: he's always the one trying to solve every problem, have the solution to every situation. It's not fair, and it shouldn't have to be his responsibility.

This isn't on Tony. It's on Bucky, and he's the one who needs to just buck up and deal with it.

He makes a small sound of protest when Tony pulls away, but only because he'd been getting pretty comfortable with the other man's weight on top of his own. The hammock is surprising that way, or maybe it's just that Tony fits so well into the lines and planes of his body. He's gotten used to it, and that should probably put him on guard more than it does. But he feels like he has so few walls left that Tony hasn't pulled down, so few ways to protect himself. Maybe it's how things should be; he doesn't know. But he does know he'd rip his own heart out just to make Tony smile.

"This isn't..." He reaches up to place his hand over Tony's, pressing it along the seam between metal and flesh, the part that can be felt through his shirt. "It wasn't your fault. You know that I don't blame you, right? I don't blame you for anything that happened then. And you're not doing anything hurtful now."

"I- I can't change other people but this situation hinges pretty well on...me." He's the one asking them to share him. He's the one demanding their time, their affection, and trying as hard as humanly possible to give them all he has in return when they're together. Whatever's bothering Bucky has to be something he can change. He can't see anything in this situation that's not his fault. But...He frowns, gaze settling in the middle distance as he tries to puzzle out how this is on Bucky.

It's not coming.

Before he can say anything before he can argue the point? Their hands curl together, pressing against flesh, bone, and vibranium. "I was trying to hurt you."

Back then. Specifically. Killing either of them would have been very easy, very simple, and would've gotten rid of many a complication over the past year or so. But that hadn't been the goal. Pain had been the goal. "How does that make me any better than-"

Than the men that put him in the chair. The men that broke Bucky just because they could.

But if he can, has, forgiven Bucky for what happened when he wasn't himself- could he accept Bucky's forgiveness of what he'd done when he wasn't in his right mind? He could argue he chose to do harm but...he might not have been entirely on an even keel at that moment. Maybe. He hates the idea of shifting blame. "If you don't blame me, who do you blame for that? Please don't say yourself, you were only trying to not die."

"And I'm telling you it doesn't. You don't have to change anything Tony." Hadn't he told Tony something similar even before all this started, before Loki came back? If he hadn't, it's a grave oversight. "Why are you do convinced that everything is your problem to solve?"

He squeezes Tony's hand at that little confession. He won't insult either of them by denying it; Tony had been trying to hurt him. And though everything had happened so fast, he'd had ample opportunity to digest the fight afterwards. Tony had opportunity to use deadly force. And he hadn't. Sure it says a lot about Tony's temper at the time, his intentional want to cause pain, but it also says something very important: he's not inherently a killer. He's not inherently like what HYDRA turned Bucky into. That's important.

"You are better." He leans in enough to press his lips against Tony's, fierce and brief. "You yourself were hurting Tony, over the Accords, over your family, over Steve, all of it. That's a lot for one person to handle. Of course I don't blame you."

There's a difference between causing pain because you're in pain, and causing pain because you can. Bucky's felt both, extensively so, and he'll say it as many times as it takes for Tony to believe him. "At the time I blamed Zemo. As soon as I saw my... the cryo chambers, I knew we'd been set up. And knowing what I now know, I blame Ross as well, for the pressure he insisted on putting on you. They were both trying to cause pain for their own agendas. You were reacting to being hurt. There's no blame in that, and I'm just a tin man anyway. Pull me apart and put me back together again."

He does blame himself as well, and he blames Steve too. But saying that, going into that conversation, isn't something they need to visit right now, and won't bring closure or comfort to either one of them. So he chooses to stay quiet instead, nuzzling back into Tony's hair and pressing kisses into it.

"Because most of the time it is? Especially in relationships. Something's off or wrong or not working it's- it's always on me." Even with Loki on occasion. And it seemed even with Bucky but now? With this vehemence? He's not all that certain he was right to think it was something he had to do.

Some of the earlier warm contentment drifts away in the face of ragged memory. He's not proud. It- it was a complicated time but that was no excuse to try and hurt someone that had no agency over anything that happened to set him off, or anything that Rogers pulled him into because he had a misplaced sense of loyalty. He can't, doesn't, blame Bucky for the shit Rogers did. That's all on him. Bucky had been trying to get by without causing a fuss.

Having some affirmation that he wasn't terrible- that someone else saw every straw that broke his bak in the bunker? Closes up old wounds still festering in exhaustion and resentment for what he had to do, what he tried to fix things.

Even if he failed.

It's hard to assume otherwise in the face of Bucky's firm belief and affection. Tony's eyes flutter open, dark and assessing as he slides a hand up to stroke Bucky's jaw. As much as he hates to think back to that moment? Bucky has to hate it more. Everything of The Soldier propped and wrapped up like skeletons in the worst kind of closet by a man that triggered him into losing his autonomy. "You're not."

Tin. That's not- Tony's lips press thin as he burrows back against Bucky's chest, nose in his throat. "You're more than that, baby, you know it. Right?" The blame game can wait. This? This can't.

"Most of the time isn't all of the time." And he truly doubts that most of the time was really, honestly most of the time. Sure, Tony is a lot sometimes, but it's also what makes him so wonderful, and so wonderfully unique. No, Tony is perfect; Bucky is the one who needs to adjust, needs to figure out his own head and his own place. He'll manage. "This one isn't on you Tony. Okay?"

He leans into the hand on his jaw, holding Tony's gaze. Neither of them are at their best right now, cracked open and rubbed raw. It's a side of himself he doesn't like to show, because Tony's too much of an engineer, too much of a fixer. The mess that is Bucky Barnes isn't Tony's fault; it shouldn't have to be his to fix.

It was never about fixing each other anyway.

He holds that quiet, dark gaze until Tony breaks it, letting him see some of the raw, ragged feelings that Bucky normally keeps so completely hidden. His hand sinks into Tony's hair again as he burrows close, and he allows himself a few long moments of enjoying the way they feel as they breathe together, surrounded by the quiet of the night. "Depends on who you ask," he finally replies, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "Here I am, that's what's important."

"Okay." He relents, if only for the moment, if only because...if Bucky's insisting? IT might not actually be on him. So. This is out of his hands, which is frightening enough to think about. Communication is meant to fix complications in relationships, not show how it's something completely out of his control. Not that he doesn't trust Bucky to tell him when something hurts but-

Outside of very specific circumstances? He kind of.

Doesn't.

It's done without malice every time, he knows- done to spare him the worry, the stress, and he appreciates it once the initial panic passes but he'd much rather know from the beginning. Which meant he needed to look at his own patterns and adjust them- he can't give Bucky shit for pulling tricks he does all the time. It's led to a more honest, emotionally available side of himself in their relationship.

And he'd thought it'd ben going well. It is, he decides, burrowing close, hands curling in Bucky's shirt. Like if he thinks it loud enough, pretends hard enough, everything will work out okay. "You're not hollow. You're full of salt and heart and sarcasm."

Trauma, too, but that goes without saying.

He holds Tony a little tighter when he gives in and stops pushing the point; it’s on Bucky to figure out how to live here, how to exist alongside Tony’s other lover. Tony’s had to change so much of himself because of the demands of the world; Bucky doesn’t want him shouldering all that responsibility here too. It’s not fair, especially when Bucky is clearly the problem. He just has to push his own discomfort aside, and for Tony that’s something he’ll do without complaint.

Letting his arm curl around Tony again he gently pets along the line of his hip, hand working its way to his lower back. Tony always holds tension here and this is no place for a proper massage but he can at least maybe rub away a little of the ache.

He sighs into Tony’s hair, tries to lose himself there. It doesn’t work because there’s still a conversation they need to have, but it was a nice thought. “Guess so, when you put it that way.” It’s not how he’d been thinks of it; Bucky’s own line of thought had been less generous, commentary about being easily broken and easily replaced. Tony doesn’t need to hear those thoughts though. “Least they had the forethought not to use actual tin, or you’d be fixing dents in me constantly.”

The tangled knots of tension ease under Bucky's skilled hands. The position and surface aren't entirely conducive to a massage, true, but mostly it's feeling safe. Having that contact. Knowing Bucky will...will try to stay. Try to be present when he's around. It's more than he thought he had a right to ask for but reached for all the same, needing some kind of reassurance he shouldn't demand. And yet Bucky gives it to him without batting an eye. Scrapes himself open raw and real and Tony lo-

There's a feeling, here, that he's afraid to name. Something new that could be so much.

Should be.

"Missing the point of your own metaphor here, dear." He reaches up to press one hand flat against Bucky's chest, over the meaty thud of his heart. "Had a heart all along, remember?"

Tony's weight is welcome against his chest, his torso. Tony helps hold him down and keep him here, and right now it underlines how Tony is actually here with him. Tony had made the effort to come out and find him, and he's making the effort to stay with him. It's more than Bucky deserves, especially since he's pretty sure the hammock isn't exactly the best support for his lover's back.

He'll make it up to Tony, he promises himself. An indulgent massage and breakfast in bed and Bucky will stop sneaking out at nights. It's the least he can do.

"Was that the point of the metaphor?" He covers Tony's hand with his own for a moment, before tugging it to his lips so he can press kisses to each fingertip. He'd been thinking more along the lines of being made up of spare parts and easily replaceable, but he's not going to mention that to Tony.

"You're missing a pretty good sky, you know, all burrowed down in my chest. Stars are out. 's nice."

He didn't always remember to reach out. To take the time to let someone know that they're important, to make efforts in ways that most people understand- with time, with the right words, with steady, reliable commitment. Keeping Bucky's kit upgraded and protected, keeping him safe when he visits, keeping the arm in working order- that's how he shows what he feels. How important Bucky is to him. But lately?

Lately, he's been making an effort to cross that bridge more often. To find him, to hold him, to try and make promises he can actually keep. It's- not easy since time management is difficult and his own focus flits and flares, but for moments like this it's simple enough.

For peace curled in Bucky's arms? He'll make the effort.

"That's what I figured." The alternative is possible, but not something that'll ever come to mind. For himself? Sure. For Bucky? Never. "I like seeing them in your eyes better."

Still- he shifts enough to turn his face up, looking to the stars. There's the usual flutter of his pulse, tension that comes from memories of The Wormhole- but it passes. He's here, with Bucky, on earth where he's safe. Warm.

"Mmm..." He'll let talk of the metaphor — and of which metaphor it had been — drop for now. It's not important, not in the face of just being here with Tony, being present and enjoying the warmth and contentment of holding him close. Tony didn't come out here looking for Bucky's baggage; he has enough of his own already. And Bucky's probably put a fair amount of it there, intentionally or not.

He just wants to hold Tony close, and makes sure to touch him as much as possible. It's about being present, but also about being present with and for each other.

"Flatterer." It's warm though, warm and fond and he shifts as Tony needs to be comfortable with their adjusted positions, looking up at what they could see of the sky through the tree branches. He even raises one hand to point, like a dork. "That patch there though, see it? It looks like the bank of lights on your computers in the lab. Reminds me of you." What is it really? He has no idea, not versed enough in constellations to tell. Navigate by the stars means shit in an age of gps; Bucky could probably figure out cardinal directions by the stars but that's all, really.

Navigation doesn't really matter that much, he supposes, if Tony can trek out in the middle of the night to find him. If Tony cares enough to do so, then maybe Bucky can adjust his own true north to point right back at Tony.

He shifts a little, leans in just enough to catch a kiss against Tony's mouth. "Thanks for coming to find me."

It's not the usual stargazing he recalls romanticizing in his childhood, no constellations with their stories- and somehow that's better. The stars became something foreign, cold, and horrific after the wormhole. For the longest time all he'd ever wanted was to reach them. Fly among them. Actually managing it taught lessons he never thought he'd need to know in the worst way possible. But like this? Grounded against Bucky's side, wrapped up in his arms, staring up and listening to what the impression of them is like rather than frantically searching for anything familiar before he loses the last dregs of light from home?

Like this it brings back some of the appreciation.

Some of the wonder.

"You know, I can see that?" One detail and the sky isn't so hostile anymore. Isn't full of violent promise, isn't so overwhelmingly oppressive. A few words and for the moment it becomes, simply, the sky.

Leaning into the kiss he smiles against Bucky's mouth, fingers tangling with his left hand, squeezing since he knows, he's certain, Bucky will feel it. "I always will."

If Bucky needs it, if hes worried- which is often if not always.

"That's why I always come to this spot." He also has a little recording on his phone that he plays when he's out here. It's just a saved voicemail from Tony, it doesn't even say anything special because Tony had gotten distracted by Dum-E, but that's why Bucky saved it: Tony's fondly distracted voice, the sounds of the bots in the background, and the faintest commentary by Friday. It's almost like being in the lab, except without actually being in the lab.

Loki is in the lab often, so Bucky's not entirely comfortable there anymore. He'd never dream of telling Tony so though, because he doesn't want to hurt the other man. The lab is Tony's space; it's easy to see how special it is to him. Bucky won't say anything that might harm that sense of being special.

He returns the soft squeeze of his hand, lingers a little more in the kiss. Tony's relationship with the stars is complicated, and Bucky's called enough attention to the sky for one night. Better to tempt Tony into another kiss as a prelude to dragging him against Bucky's chest once more, where he'd originally wanted to be.

"You look like you haven't slept." He says it carefully, not wanting to sound at all accusatory. He's not even going to hint at the way he suspects it's been at least a day, if not two. "Quiet night out, I don't mind if you wanna doze a bit."

"When we head back-" He doesn't say 'in the morning' in case, well, they feel like spending an extra day or two roughing it. Camping isn't his thing but nature isn't half as distracting or distressing if he's got Bucky here to hold him and help him. It could be fun. Loki's off doing Loki things he thinks, he's reasonably certain, so it's safe to make this plan. And should Loki wander back in during the next few days Tony can make some argument for spending time with Bucky easily.

It might have been a year apart but Bucky...needs him more, Tony thinks. Not that one seems to need any differently than the other, isolated by choice, circumstance, and the cosmic roll of the dice. But it's been awhile since he and Bucky cracked open an engine and rebuilt something together. "There's a vintage motorcycle I found the other day that needs some TLC to get her up and going again."

Cars are his, experiments are theirs- his, Loki's, Bucky's, but engineering work of the most basic, greasy kind? That belongs to him and Bucky. Always. It'll be nice to get back to one of the first few things they did as a couple adjacent pair. It feels like the right offer to make, lips to Bucky's, body going loose and comfortable and easy, melting into place against his chest. Nose to throat, arms wound around him, breath going slower, deeper. "Tried. Couldn't. Kept thinking about- just. My imagination running off with me."

Hydra having Bucky again, snapping him up, putting him in the chair and wiping all of this away.

"First thing in the morning. I won't even make you suffer through camp coffee." Tony's not an outdoorsy type and while Bucky has no doubt that he's stay out here as long as Bucky wanted, he doesn't want Tony to feel obligated. He'd rather go back to the complex where Tony will be more comfortable, let Tony drag him into the garage where he can maybe distract himself with this latest project. Bucky does enjoy working on bikes, so it just might work.

Even if it feels a little like a bribe.

But he's not cruel enough to say that, not when Tony's starting to relax against him again, not when he can tug the blanket around the other man, make sure Tony is cocooned all warm and safe against his chest. Tony's quite plainly avoiding his question but Bucky doesn't try to push. They both have things they don't want to talk about, wounds torn open a little too much right now and Bucky doesn't want to cause Tony any more pain than he already has. So he presses kisses into Tony's hair, lets his fingers seek out all the little points where Tony holds tension to try to rub some of the soreness away.

"Your imagination a little quieter now?" Sometimes it is, he's noticed, when they lay together. Sometimes there's an energy in Tony that just melts and mellows, and Bucky isn't sure that he deserves to see such softness but he treasures it nonetheless. "Or do you wanna, I don't know, do something? Talk about something?" He's pretty sure that Tony needs the sleep but he's also pretty sure that sometimes sleep is the worst thing.

He could let it hang between them like a knife, all his fears, all his nightmares. It doesn't help to talk about them (except when it does) and the last thing he wants to do is make Bucky feel like he can't leave if he needs to (personal autonomy is vital when their relationship is so complicated) and- it wouldn't keep him from having those thoughts, those fears.

But he can hear Bucky's quiet patience, can hear the window for discussion passing and- here with Bucky's pulse against his lips, warm and safe and relaxed? He can let some of that worry out. Voice it to the stars and the woods and hope it never comes true. "It's the usual. Hydra finding you. Making you forget- all of this. We don't have a magic mind resetting catchphrase."

If he loses Bucky like that? Bucky...will probably stay gone. From him.

The silence stretches a little, to the point that he almost thinks it won't break. Tony does break it though with quiet words that wash over his skin, words heavy for all that they're carried on a puff of breath. Bucky noses a little further into his hair, leaving a heavy sigh there before turning his face to rest his cheek against the top of Tony's head.

"You've read my words too." He knows that Tony's read the book, or at least read a translation of it, if not the original Russian. He never did ask how the other man had gotten his hands on it after Siberia, and he doesn't truly want to know. "You know you could control me."

Not that they've ever tried it. They've never even really talked about it, but they've talked in enough adjacent directions for them both to put it together. Still it's not quite what Tony's saying and Bucky knows it. Tony had seen his cryo tube, his chair; more than just reading the book, he'd seen those pieces of Bucky's life bared to him. It's a hell of a lot different seeing the evidence than just reading about it.

"Do you want me to try to stay more?" He doesn't know if he can, that's why he won't make it a promise, but he thinks he could try to figure out how to give Tony more of his time, to spend more of it here. It will mean balancing things elsewhere and he knows that will be a mess, but for Tony he'd try to figure it out.

"I know how they made you." How they broke him. How they stripped away every last shred of James Buchanan Barnes and turned him into someone else, something else. Hollowed him out and pointed him like the worst kind of weapon. He knows how it works. He can't forget it. Can't shake the schematics from his mind, can't delete the words or their weight.

He could. A few seconds of Russian and he could make Bucky do anything.

And he'd lose everything in the attempt. All the trust, all the warmth, all the care and he'd be right to lose it. There isn't anything he can think of that would make taking that step worth it.

"I'd keep you all the time if you'd let me, but that'd drive you crazy. You have your missions and- it's complicated here. More than it used to be." That's on him. That'll always, always be on him. "Check in more often? I- even if you can't come by for awhile, I want to hear from you. To know you're safe. Give me a little peace of mind."

Or a lot. He runs his fingers down the length of Bucky's arm, tangling their fingers. "Send me dirty pictures or something. You know I miss you."

"I know you do." It's a violation of privacy maybe, but not one he places on Tony's shoulders. Knowing how Tony's mind works, the speed at which he can process and the way Friday can record things for him, he has no doubt that Tony had figured out quite a lot of it after he'd left the bunker. It's another thing they haven't talked about; he's not sure they ever will.

But he does know that if HYDRA ever got him again, pulled the Soldier back to the surface, that he'd want Tony to do whatever he had to do. If that includes using the trigger words, then so be it.

"Life is complicated." He curls one hand into Tony's hair; petting through it soothes him as much as it does Tony, and right now he needs that soothing. It's selfish, he knows, to want things, to want Tony's attention, to want his friendship with Steve, to want to continue his work eliminating the last pockets of HYDRA that are too deeply hidden or too deeply protected for the Accords-abiding remnants of the Avengers to do anything about them. "But I'll call more often, if you want me to. I know it'll be a secure line if it's yours."

It's protecting both of them; HYDRA aren't the only ones who'd like to get their hands on Bucky, and Bucky knows that Ross would love to pin anything on Tony.

He snorts and rolls his eyes at Tony's suggestion though. "You're impossible." Clearly he doesn't mind it, and it's just the kind of thing he'd expect Tony to say to make him smile.

Edited 2019-06-28 03:19 (UTC)

"I'll make you a series of burner phones." Just in case. Encrypted line, sure, but- anything he can do to make sure Bucky is safe while he's away? He'll do. Controlling everything isn't a thing that'll happen for Tony but he can control the little variables. Manage the minutiae of communication and clandestine infrastructure.

Just enough plausible deniability should Ross come calling. Just enough space to keep Tony off of HYDRA's radar anymore than he already is.

Just enough to keep Bucky from forgetting him.

"No, I'm actually very easy. Doing anything in this hammock, that's impossible-" But it's not the urge or the mood, not really. Now it's lazy contemplation cured close, hands running over muscle and sinew, massaging Bucky's skin gently. Idly. Not entirely unlike a cat kneading a blanket when it's pleased, this kind of contact- settles Tony. He thinks it settles Bucky too. "Are you saying you don't want steamy sexts from me while you're on the road?"

“You spoil me on equipment already.” It’s not a complaint; Bucky is strong but he’s not invincible and Tony’s modifications to his kit have helped. And Tony knows just as much as he does that HYDRA needs eliminating. But Tony’s hands are tied far too much; Bucky’s advantage lies in being a criminal already and he can get away with a hell of a lot more because he’s not constrained by the law. Tony takes a risk in helping as much as he can’t, and Bucky won’t ask him to do more.

He tugs at Tony’s hair enough to get him to look up, captures his lips when he does. It’s a slow kiss, less burning passion and more quiet thanks for being there. For giving any of his valuable time to Bucky.

“The hammock is not impossible.” It’s not the time and neither of them are in the mood. He’s not even really arguing it; this is more just flippant stubbornness to let Tony know that this little tiny piece of things is okay. Bucky will change, will do whatever he needs to do for Tony, because it’s the least of what Tony deserves. “I’m sure that by morning we’ll have figured out at least five ways you could fuck me in it.”

But it’s not what either of them need, not right now. Now when he can have this instead, this quiet calm, Tony settling into his body, finally letting some of his tension slip away. Bucky sounds out softly, something between a chuckle and a purr, and can feel himself settling as well. “Are you saying you don’t want to send me steamy sexts while I’m on the road?”

"Seven, actually." Because he'd had that very idle thought initially before he fell into it, into this, satisfying himself with quietly being held. Intellectual exercises are one thing but- the quiet, the calm, the shape of Bucky supporting him, softening the potential ache of the hammocks' embrace? It's more than enough for him. Besides-

He's exhausted. Too long without proper sleep, too much worry, too much to do. That's never going to change but- he can sleep a little bit better tangled up like this, the steady beat of Bucky's heart under his ear, the quiet whirring of his vibranium arm. "Fresh one every night. Just so you know I'm missing you."

Terribly, hopelessly. He clings, he knows he clings, but Bucky's made it easy. Inviting this, inviting him to hold on. Between one breath and the next he starts to slip, fingers tangled with Bucky's, eyes drifting closed. IN the morning. He can detail how often and how in the morning.

"Seven just in this short time? You're going to make me want to come out here again just so you can try them out." He won't; he's hurt Tony by slipping out, and he's promised not to do so again. He presses another kiss into his lover's hair, a quiet little apology for the hurt he never wanted to cause.

At least Tony is starting to settle in a little. Bucky can read it in the way he starts to go still, quiet and soft where they're tangled together and he's just glad that even with the strife and stress of the night, Tony feels comfortable enough to relax into this shared space. He rubs the back of his partner's neck, soothing the tension there while his other hand wanders down far enough to squeeze Tony's ass. It's not meant to lead to anything, more meant to accent their little tease. "I'll send back pictures to at least every third one."

Tony clings and Bucky doesn't mind it. Encourages it in fact, because deep down where it's hard to admit even to himself, he wants to be wanted, to be needed like this. Tony clings and Bucky just holds him closer, rubs his palms over Tony's back and tucks the blanket close, cradling him against his own body and murmuring softly in his ear, simple little phrases in English and French and Italian, telling Tony how glad Bucky is that they're spending the night together like this. It isn't until Tony's well and truly asleep that Bucky allows his own eyes to close; he'll likely still be half awake most of the night anyway.

But when dawn arrives it brings with it the warm weight of Tony's form against his own, their legs tangled, the blanket keeping body heat close. The hammock cradles Bucky and Bucky cradles Tony and sure it's not that traditional but he thinks he likes it anyway.

Like this, maybe, he can see the appeal of camping. It's quiet at night, nothing to startle him into awareness, the ambient white noise peaceful rather than oppressive. A reminder of why he keeps throwing himself into the meat grinder that is his heroing career. Moments like this. For him, for everyone else on the planet. Crickets and birds chirping, the smell of green as he burrows in against James' shoulder when the first golden rays of light cut through the foliage.

Serenity. He doesn't get moments like this often. "Next time-"

He mumbles, like there will be a next time, and there might, if camping is a thing Bucky wants, like it's a couple thing they can do not hiding from the awkward moments in the compound- "We're putting up a...sunshade. Awning. Thing. Not ready to be awake yet."

Especially since he was able to actually sleep. Deeply, dreamlessly.

Tony grumbles about the light and Bucky’s answering chuckle comes soft and low, a rumble in his chest before he nuzzles his good morning kisses into Tony’s hair. Tony isn’t the type to get up at (or before) first light to go for a morning run and the dawn light probably isn’t his friend. He tugs at the blanket, pulling it over their heads to block out some of the light and shroud them in a hazy kind of shade.

“Better?” He hopes so, because Tony could most certainly use the sleep and there’s still a chance he could get some more of it this morning. He keeps his voice quiet and his touches gentle in an attempt to avoid bringing Tony too much toward wakefulness. He wants more than anything to kiss him deeply, soundly, but the impulse to do so can be push aside until he knows Tony is truly ready to wake.

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