bakerstreet | Can't wait

Can't wait

❝Finally❞

There's always been tension between the two of you, a will-they-won't they kind of vibe. Perhaps you're even romantically involved, if that's your way. But for some reason, you haven't taken the next step yet.

Now, though, you're finally ready to be sexually intimate.

How to Play:
★ Comment with your character and preferences.
★ Comment to others.
★ Play out the scene.

Prompts:
☆ First Time: This is your first time having sex, so it was something to approach with caution.
☆ Unsure: You're uncertain of your skill or prowess or even how to go about this.
☆ Uncorrupted: One of you is more innocent, younger, more inexperienced, and the other doesn't want to take that away.
☆ Differences: The two of you are different enough - perhaps even different species - that intimacy may be an issue, but you're ready to attack it head on.
☆ Taken: You aren't "together," and one of you is involved with someone else. This is the big decision to do an act that may be viewed as heinous.
☆ Forbidden: There's been no sexual contact because it's utterly forbidden, be it incest, class difference, enemies, etc.
☆ Realization: Maybe you'd been friends, but this is the first time you've really seen them in that light.
☆ Otherwise Distracted: Whether it be a job, a holy mission, or anything else along those lines, you've just been too busy to be with someone like that because it would take your mind away from what you have to do.
☆ Finally Free: Before, you just didn't have the chance. Now you do.
☆ Only Time: You were unsure before, but now, it looks like you'll only have this once chance to be together.
☆ A Long Time: You've been separated and it happened before you could get to the good parts. You want to pick up where you left off.
☆ Desperate: You've wanted them for so long...God, this feels so good, you never want it to stop.
☆ Romantic: You want it to be perfect.
☆ Waiting Until Marriage: Doing things all proper-like.
☆ FREE STYLE

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"All right, I'll find something," he says, grabbing take-out menus from the bedside table; surely there's fried chicken at an easy, deliverable distance. His eyes sweep up from the menus to see that shirt disappear.

He places an order and grabs his bag to find a change of clothes for the night. He doesn't intend on leaving this room for the rest of the night. Comfort is the only thing that matters. He lays the clothes at the foot of the bed and slides his bag under the edge of it. No need to unpack the whole thing if they're not here for more than a night for some decent sleep.

Bucky slides his shoes off and lines them up next to the bedside table, collapsing against the pillows and just listening to the sounds of the shower from the next room.

Steve actually showers once the hot water does the work of easing some of his tension. It's hard to pinpoint the exact reason for his mood outside of hunger and frustrating traffic. He wants to eat and read a book before going to bed. Tomorrow will be better. That's what he's got to believe.

He comes out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. "All yours. Plenty of hot water left."

Modern hotels were great like that. They never ran out of hot water these days. Steve dragged his bag close to find something comfortable to wear. He pulls a black tank top on before he drops the towel and pulls on soft, grey Dodgers sweatpants that Nat gave him years ago.

As he's rubbing the towel through his hair to help it dry he smiles a little at Bucky. "Thanks for handling dinner."

"Thanks," he says it when he turns to look back up as Steve comes back into the room.

Oh.

His mouth is dry as he takes in the sight of Steve in nothing but a towel.

Oh, no.

He shakes his head, "No problem." A beat passes. Two. And he blinks, hard, pulling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. He scrubs a hand over his face and grabs his clothes on his way to take his own shower.

It's no big deal to get dressed in front of Bucky. They've practically lived together for decades. Bucky's one of the few people Steve didn't mind seeing him when he looked like a blond broomstick.

He gives him a little smile, figuring Bucky's just as tired as he is. He seemed really lost in his head there for a second but not in a bad way. Not in a way that would make Steve worry. It's just been a long day for both of them.

While Bucky's in the shower Steve gets his book out, makes himself comfortable on the bed and starts reading. He can feel himself relaxing inch by inch. The bed is soft and comfortable, perfect after a long day. He misses Bucky next to him but he'll be back soon enough.

Bucky doesn't linger long in the shower, he's aching to get back on that bed and curl up next to Steve. Maybe they didn't intend to book a single bedroom, but... he really isn't complaining about it, personally.

When he emerges a little while later, he has no shirt and a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. He smirks a little at the image of Steve, already relaxing with a book. Bucky ruins it in two seconds flat--

He crosses the room to crawl back onto the bed, where he gracefully drapes himself into Steve's lap, staring up at him, "What're you reading, anyway?" he asks, trying to crane his neck to see the title but it's hard to tell from where he is.

He's a little surprised to see Bucky without a shirt on. He's usually self-conscious about all the scars left over from his days as the Winter Soldier. Steve lifts his book out of the way so that Bucky can get comfortable. Once he's settled he shifts the book to one hand and the other goes right to Bucky's hair.

They've done this often enough that Steve knows his job. Pet Bucky until he falls asleep. Actually, his weight in Steve's lap helps to relax him even more. He's always been safe when he's with Bucky.

"You might like it, actually." Steve turns it so Bucky can see the title. Consider the Fork. "It's a history of what we eat and how we eat it. Remember that bookstore in Ohio? Someone recommended it to me there so I got it."

He does that a lot with books. It would take him forever to pick on his own. Folks seem to have great suggestions most of the time too.

The tension seeps out of his shoulders almost as soon as Steve's fingers crawl through his still-damp hair. It's such a comforting feeling, and it's become so normal over the course of this trip.

"You get the most random recommendations," he says, an amused smirk on his face. "It does sound interesting, though. Oh-" he shifts and pushes himself up, leaning further across Steve's lap to reach for his phone on the table beside the bed. "that reminds me," he mutters. "there's this guy on the- I don't know- anyway, here." Just a modern 20-something guy making all kinds of food they both grew up on. The reactions and commentary are hilarious.

Yes, Bucky has fallen victim to scrolling TikTok far too late on sleepless nights.

"Bucky," he says with a laugh. "Why does he look like me? Before all this, I mean."

That's Steve's first thought. The guy is a human toothpick and probably just as tall as Steve would've been if he never got the serum. He also remembers recipes like that and it sounded pretty good to him. The Depression really made folks inventive.

Bucky spends more time on social media than Steve who avoids it like the plague. He generally finds it to be full of noise and anger and nothing substantive. If it distracts Bucky though, that's fine.

"Ma would've killed me if I got a tattoo though."

"What?" he tilts his head back to look up at him, the picture of clueless innocence. "I- well...I think that's just his face." Bucky hadn't really thought about it before, actually. Steve's not wrong, though. Hmm...

All the fun time-waster parts, at least. He doesn't interact a lot on most of it, he just... scrolls. Idle distractions that work well enough to keep his mind just engaged enough that he can zone out and eventually go to sleep. It's that or movies, he's got suggestions from everyone there and commits to making his way through at least a few from the list every week.

He grins and laughs a little at the thought, "Oh yeah, she wouldda had your hide, Steven Grant!" That's his best impression of the second Mom he was lucky enough to have in his life for awhile– don't hate him, Steve!

"Yeah, that's just his face but he looks real similar to me back then." Steve can't believe Bucky didn't notice the similarities. He rolls his eyes he's that skeptical.

The impression of his ma gets a snort out of him. Bucky cannot do his ma's Irish accent well at all and he's definitely too deep for her. But he is one of the few people that can remember her.

"The lecture I would've gotten. And she would've dragged me to church to let the priests lecture me too." Steve missed her fiercely for a single breath but it settled down quickly. He had time to grieve and process his ma's death. It didn't tear him apart like some other memories. "Probably grounded me for the rest of my life."

Sometimes two things are true and have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Sometimes... your subconscious drives the bus. What can you do?

He grins when he earned the snort of laughter, it almost feels like he won something. At least he got that much from him tonight, if nothing else.

"No doubt. She might've even grounded you from me for awhile, if that'd happened," because surely if Steve had a tattoo, so did Bucky, and it was probably a whim of a drunk idea at the time.

"We would've hated that," Steve says softly, smiling fondly as he thinks back. His fingers still for just a second because he could absolutely see it, the apartment he and his ma lived, the argument, and being forbidden from seeing his best friend.

It hurt a little too. Steve misses the past now and then in waves. At least he has Bucky. He has someone who can remember just as much as he can.

His fingers start again because it settles him too. "Your ma wouldn't have been happy about a tattoo either. Definitely would've kept us from each other for awhile."

“Worst punishment there was, and our Ma’s both knew it,” he huffs a soft laugh.

He relaxes further against Steve’s lap as his fingers started carding through his hair again. It really is like a comfort switch, as instant turning on a light.

"Nothing worse than losing you," Steve murmurs softly.

It's all too easy to remember Bucky falling and the grief that had torn him to shreds. Steve hurt even now thinking about it.

Bucky is right there though. Steve looks down at him with a sad smile. He's here. That's what matters right now. Bucky's still here and Steve has him back. There's no reason to grieve anymore. He shakes his head a little to snap himself out of the memories.

"Any update on that food?" he asks, moving the subject away from that dark and painful part of his life.

Bucky smiles a little in return, though his eyes are a little curious, confused. He can see that sadness in Steve’s eyes, but he’s not sure what‘s causing it.

The nightmares- the memories- have calmed down some, they don’t come quite as frequently now, but he’s not sure they’ll ever truly be gone.

He hums a curious note and tilts his head back down to pull up the app on his phone, but there’s a knock on the door.

He slides his phone on the bed as he gets up to answer the door and bring the food back to spread out on the small table in the corner of the room. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he chuckles lightly.

The food is a welcome interruption before Steve thoughts turn back to dark and sad. He really needs to shake whatever this mood is off. It hasn't been a bad day, not by a long shot, just something's up and Steve isn't sure what.

He sits at the table with an easy smile. "Thanks for ordering."

Then he's immediately digging in to whatever Bucky ordered without much regard for what it is. It all smells good and his stomach rumbles happily.

"When do you want to set out tomorrow morning?" he asks, focusing on tomorrow instead of his thoughts.

“I figured you would rather get in the shower before you did anything else,” he shrugs. They have a small feast from KFC, complete with all the best sides and fixin's. There’s plenty of everything for both of them.

He shrugs at the question, “I don’t know. We’re not really on a time limit… why, did you have something in mind?”

"Not really," Steve shrugs, speaking between bites of chicken and mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. "I feel like we didn't get anywhere today."

It was mostly sitting in traffic and watching the countryside roll by. Not a very exciting part of the roadtrip. Maybe that's part of Steve's problem tonight, he's never been good when he feels like he's going nowhere.

"Not that we have to but I don't know it's a roadtrip. We're supposed to go places." Steve pushes his hair back and smiles awkwardly at Bucky.

“You feelin’ like a hamster on a wheel or somethin’?” he perks a brow at him from across him.

That’s something that’s different between them now. Bucky is perfectly content to take it slow. There’s no time table or itinerary to keep, they can go at any pace they want. But he gets it. The traffic really was awful.

“Where do you wanna go? I’ll follow you anywhere,” he reaches over with a socked foot and kicks Steve’s under the table. “you know that.”

"I can't get my brain to settle down." Steve wouldn't call it anxiety or paranoia. It's not like they've noticed a tail on them and Steve trusts they've both been looking. Hydra's not gone, they both know that. Cut off a head and more grow back.

"The food is helping though. And the shower was great. I should get one like that back home." It would be an indulgence but maybe he can have one or two of those from time to time. He could have a nice shower to relax in.

As for where he wanted to go, Steve didn't know. "I'd have to look at a map or maybe what's in town? I'm not really trying to get anywhere just... somewhere."

Bucky would definitely call it anxiety. Not paranoia, though. They have to be smart about traipsing across the whole country. But he refues to let HYDRA steal any more of his life from him than they already had.

He grins and nods his agreement, "You absolutely should." Some indulgence wasn't going to hurt him. Bucky thinks Steve should do a little more of it, personally.

"We gotta have a somewhere to go to, to get anywhere, Steve," he chuckles softly. "Would've thought you'd have a list somewhere already." Even if it was only a mental list.

"I'll never get you out of it," he says with a little more genuine smile. "Until the hot water runs out."

Maybe when they got back from this trip Steve would make his apartment a little more comfortable. Not that it isn't but he has money for more. He can afford better. He just doesn't spend the money. Just in case. It's left over from the Depression. He might need that money for an emergency.

He shrugs as he pushes some mac & cheese around his plate. "All that places I want to go... I wanted to see with you. I guess we're doing that now. Grand Canyon being at the top of the list. We'll get there."

They're already on their way there. Steve shouldn't have to worry about it just because they're going slow.

“I’d definitely share with you,” he hadn’t meant it quite so suggestively, but there’s no deny thing the double entendre, there. He doesn’t bother correcting it.

Bucky had a hard time making any space he found himself in look like a real person lived there. Personal touches were a slower process for him in the progression of everything else, but he has slowly started integrating more stuff into his areas.

“Yeah, we are,” he nods a little. “I know today was kind of rough, but… at least for once the worst thing we actually had to deal with was shitty traffic?” Better than Nazis and HYDRA or psychopathic aliens, if you ask Bucky. It was almost a relief when things like that happened. Not because he particularly loves being trapped in traffic, but he aches for something normal so much that it almost feels like a good thing, comparatively.

Maybe that's really what it comes down to. They aren't running from anything but maybe in the back of his mind Steve felt like they were. Delays might have brought that to the front of his mind.

"I think a good night sleep will fix the rest of it and then a run in the morning." Steve hasn't given up his five mile runs in the morning. Physical exercise is almost meditative these days because he can just keep running and running and running.

"Let's take a day off the road," he suggests, studying Bucky across the table. "We'll do some laundry, get some supplies, and then start again the next day."

It's a really hard mindset to get out of, Bucky struggles with it still, too.

He smiles a little and huffs a laugh, "I hope you don't expect me to be joining you," Bucky has never been an early riser if he had a choice in the matter. Before the war, any day he didn't have to go to the docks or do something important, he wasn't getting out of bed before 10am.

If he does anything at all when Steve slips out in the morning, it would be trying to convince him to skip the run. Stay.

Bucky pushes the thought aside, grinning at the idea of taking a day just to themselves, out of the car. "Sounds good."

At least clean-up with takeout is easy enough. Now, Bucky is curled up against the pillows at the head of the bed with a journal in his lap. He picked up the habit when he was still trying to stitch parts of himself together and just never really quit.

The routine of it is nice, something quiet to do before bed that isn't going to keep him wired like scrolling social media would. It's such an easy way to sink time doing nothing, and it's a habit he's found himself in a lot. Sometimes, he just needs the noise to quiet the static in his own mind.

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Oh look, the face I use for my What If? Steve!

AMAZING haaa

He's a great face!

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