Chapter Text
He still felt the tingling in his hand, that phantom touch from where, for a brief instant, his hand had touched Walker's—even if only to slap him in rapid succession in that nervous impulse. It was the same dizzying touch and the heat that rose through his body while he needed to relieve the hard, aroused weight between his legs. Even if briefly and sloppily under the shower water, his left hand braced against the tile that felt too thin under the weight of the vibranium.
The back and forth was anything but gentle; nothing about it was. The desire was burning and searing, just like the constant motion of his fist moving up and down over his swollen cock, just like the most insane scenarios his mind insisted on creating, even when he tried to impose limits on everything his body and mind wanted in unison. He tried to rein in thoughts about Walker stretching on that mat, and how that damned skin became exposed when he reached for things at the back of the tall kitchen cabinet. He tried not to think about how comforting his weight felt over his body when they were thrown across the room during a fight against some lunatic. Above all, he tried not to remember that touch on his nape, constant and ridiculously protective. Just as he tried very hard not to remember Walker wetting his lips and his low voice asking if he was okay. It didn't take a genius to know that Bucky imagined that same question in a more intimate, intense setting. That same attentive gaze, and God forgive him, but Walker sweaty and preferably moaning.
And still, he tried to push that out of his mind while he masturbated, while his right hand slid over his cock and his fingertips traced the prominent veins every now and then, before he came against the tile and watched all that effort wash down the drain along with his bathwater.
"What the hell!" He threw his head back, letting the water wash over his face and drown his impure mouth. His hand cupped water to clean himself of the pleasure he'd just reached. That same hand joined the vibranium one to rub over his face, washing it as if he could also wash his mind and the thoughts that had turned his head into his newest, dirtiest home.
Bucky needed time. He needed not to see Walker that day, not to smell that cologne he used, not to hear the sound of his voice, not to smell the delicious aroma of the food he cooked. It would be easy... if they didn't share the old Stark Tower as their current home. It would be easy if his own feet didn't keep betraying him, his body seeking out the ridiculously comforting presence that Walker had become for—as far as all signs pointed—his restless and, until then, incomplete heart.
Getting out of the shower and keeping those thoughts in his head was becoming a constant, not an exception. The towel around his waist while a smaller one was rubbed against his hair, now longer. His feet hitting the floor and then the rug in his room. His body sinking onto the bed as he basically let himself fall into a sitting position. He turned his neck until he heard it crack, breathing deep as if that simple act could leave everything else behind. He lost track of how many minutes he sat there, thinking about how low he'd stooped by allowing himself to jerk off thinking about a teammate; one who, frankly, he'd had a hand in "destroying." Something they'd apparently moved past, or something in between. By the time he finished dressing, his hair was much less wet; he just combed it to try to straighten it out, but nothing he really cared about right now.
The plan for the day was simple: stay away from John F Walker.
A shame that for a plan to actually work, both parties need to be on board. And even without knowing it, Walker wasn't.
First, Bucky thought he'd managed to avoid running into Walker in the kitchen, but there he was, brewing fresh coffee while keeping his arms crossed over his chest, hip leaning against the counter, a relaxed posture of someone just waiting for a new, hot cup. The smile disarmed Bucky the instant he saw it.
"Overslept?" John had that almost home-like timbre for Bucky, something rhythmic, with a light touch of playful teasing.
"Wasn't in the mood for a crowded breakfast."
Bucky watched, as he'd been doing for a good while now, Walker's movements. The slight lean to open the tall cabinet and grab Bucky's mug, because of course they had standard mugs, but Bucky liked using an old one that had been left behind in the tower when the former owner... left. Walker poured hot coffee into Bucky's mug, stretching his hand out so Bucky could take it directly, not passed across the counter that partially separated them in that kitchen.
"Thanks." It came out almost a murmur instead of a real thank you, but Bucky didn't trust himself much either when it came to Walker.
"Anytime." Walker finally poured coffee into his own mug, bringing it to his lips for a sip that made him close his eyes, whether to appreciate the flavor or to fuel impure images in Bucky's imagination, perhaps both.
Bucky brought the mug to his lips, stopping himself from saying anything stupid in that moment. Not that Walker couldn't handle it. He was the one who seemed unable to.
"So…?" Walker was looking at him again, there was a reddish tint that Bucky suspected was a flush on his cheeks, just above the well-defined line of his beard. There was the same pretty touch of red on Walker's ears and maybe that was why he brought his left hand to his ear, scratching it as if he could blame the recent friction for the reddish hue it had taken on.
"The coffee's good." Bucky still needed another sip... or about two more mugs to keep himself busy and his mouth out of trouble.
"Oh, right... but I was referring to you. After we got back yesterday you basically disappeared, so." Walker did seem genuinely nervous, needing to wet his lips as if he hadn't just taken a sip of coffee. "I even considered going to... you know, your room... but" he smiled, something to hide the lack of tact, not because he found it funny. It was a distraction while he went back to sipping his coffee, opened his mouth to say something again and then closed it as if he'd lost his train of thought, moving his head in a brief no, to set aside whatever he was going to say. "Anyway."
"I'm fine. It'd take more than getting thrown that far to do any real damage to me.”
"Great. I don't want you to get hurt." he said almost without breathing, as if it weren't a sentence but one single huge word squeezed out by a somewhat nervous mouth on a somewhat flushed face. "I gotta go... I was just hoping to catch you before."
Maybe he hadn't even noticed what he'd done, putting his mug inside the sink, knowing Bucky would put his in to wash along with it, but giving a wink as he passed by Bucky, leaving the kitchen, his arm inches away from brushing Bucky's. Making the former Winter Soldier turn his face to inhale that fleeting trace of Walker's cologne as he walked away. But without turning his face to actually watch him leave, thus missing the chance to see Walker turn to look at him one more time with a discreet smile on his lips, one that left no room for misinterpretation.
Bucky might have missed Walker's smile and gaze, but his mind was still crammed with fragments, real or not. Making him think even more that his sanity depended on isolating himself, at least avoiding Walker as much as he could. But well, the last straw was yet to come…
Ignoring Walker's almost dense presence throughout that tower hadn't been an easy task, though not impossible! (At least physically speaking). While Walker was back in the kitchen, Bucky was in his room. When Walker was in the living room with Alexei nearly devouring him with his eyes, Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing something to eat. He chose to orbit the opposite space from John's, at least that was how it seemed, although Walker was in his damned mind the entire time, and his own helping hand in the shower was proof of that.
The only moment his mind gave him the slightest bit of peace, and it was truly the slightest!, was while he ran on the treadmill. Maybe the same one Walker had chosen as his favorite, but that was a minor detail. One foot and then the other, a fast and steady rhythm, something to make his body sweat after training with Yelena and Alexei while Walker and Ava had gone out on a simple mission... Probably why he was running now, keeping his mind occupied while he knew both Ava and Walker were on their way home. So distracted was he, that he didn't notice at first when he was called. He needed that slight gasp, which was much more noticeable to his trained ears than the call of his name itself.
The voice came from the entrance to the locker room, something they didn't always use, since everyone there had their own rooms with private bathrooms, but one of them always chose to use the room, especially returning from missions, where he could get rid of his combat suit without dirtying his room as if the floor with expensive carpet was something impossible to clean afterward. It was on the second grunt that Bucky stepped off the treadmill as if part of his sanity depended on his agility. In the blink of an eye he had crossed the training room and was opening the door that led to one of the locker room entrances; Walker disheveled, sweaty... and apparently attempting contortionism while moving his hand to his back trying to get rid of what looked like a large iron splinter that, seen from there and without specialized medical knowledge, Bucky suspected was severely limiting the movement of Walker's right arm.
"I'm pretty sure when they talked about you and King Arthur's sword, it wasn't necessarily it lodged in you." It had been a thought out loud, a little too loud, in fact, judging by Walker's confused face as he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head about to ask something, but shaking his head in defeat.
"I'd even ask, but right now I just need to get this out of me." he did seem genuinely uncomfortable with it. Bucky approached, finally letting go of the door and hearing it close behind him. Noticing how the iron had not only pierced through Walker's back, but very close to his arm, even cutting through the reinforced combat suit. "Can you pull it out?"
Certainly Ava must have tried, but if something had managed to pierce through Walker's body, it certainly hadn't been with care and gentleness. It would take an iron fist to remove it, or, luckily, a vibranium hand and a capable super soldier.
"Better lean on something," Bucky commented, bringing his hand to Walker's waist, his fingers twitching with the urge to press against that skin, even covered by the suit.
"Ready," Walker braced his hands on the reinforced sink in front of him. The mirror gave Bucky a view of Walker's face, of his freshly moistened lips, of the soft and almost imperceptible movement as he wanted to turn his head but held back, and then let his eyes lose themselves in the reflection until they found Bucky's.
It had been the slowest fraction of a second he'd lived in recent times. That pause that seemed to even freeze the air around them, Walker's blue eyes and that almost reddish blond beard, his messy hair and Bucky's hand against his waist, feeling the stiffness of the fabric, the superhuman strength of Walker after the serum, and the softness of skin he imagined would be perfect to get lost in touches.
"On three... three!" His firm hand was against the metal piercing Walker, pulling with steady force, no movement to the sides, nor up or down, just a constant pull outward while he watched Walker's face contort into a minimal scowl when a nerve in his arm seemed to catch, forcing him to grip the sink to the point of hearing a brief sound of a crack forming in the resistant material.
"You weren't going to count to three?" Walker threatened to stretch his shoulder, just a movement to test if everything was back in place.
"No. I said, on three. It's different." Bucky had tossed the twisted blade against the sink, leaning briefly against Walker's body to do so, keeping his hand on that waist while he went back to analyzing the now open wound near Walker's shoulder blade. "Hurting?" his gaze sought Walker's in the reflection, catching by luck the shadow of a smile that Walker seemed to be giving him, even if Bucky hadn't seen when it had started.
"Nothing I can't handle." He commented while bringing his hand to the side of his body, seeking the fastening of the suit, but making a soft grimace of discomfort, his lips pursing, his left eye closing a little more than the right while Bucky swatted his hand away and used his own to help him undress.
Though resistant, it wasn't a complicated piece to remove when you knew where the fastenings were; difficult was when Bucky's hand needed to slip between the fabric and Walker, sometimes missing and touching him over the undershirt he wore beneath, feeling the warm, almost feverish skin. Difficult was noticing that, to help him now, facing Walker, his hands pulling the suit up carefully so as not to make him strain his injured arm, standing so close he could feel the warm air escaping through Walker's parted lips tickling his skin.
Bucky felt the weight of John's hand on his waist, something bordering on fleeting, were it not for the contraction of his fingers flexing and squeezing his skin with an urgency that was reflected in those piercing blue eyes. It was there again, that look... that touch. Bucky had managed to resist once, but twice? Was he really that strong of a man?
"Thank you."
Bucky didn't need to help him with the undershirt... it was a flexible fabric, Walker could have taken it off easily with just his other arm, but there were Bucky's hands doing the job to keep himself busy, to not look at Walker's mouth any longer, to hide those blue eyes behind the shirt fabric even if for a brief instant, long enough for him to take a step back, using all his damned willpower and clarity of thought.
"Well, if I keep helping you, we'll end up in the shower together." It was an attempt at a joke, at least Bucky would tell himself that later in his room while wondering why the hell he'd opened his mouth in that moment. But it would have been worth it for the blush on Walker's face and that restless hand scratching his own neck—the good arm, of course.
"Then good thing it was you on the treadmill and not Alexei." Walker smiled, something that only highlighted his flushed face even more, the bridge of his nose in that perfect shade of embarrassed red and his ears in the same tone.
Bucky felt that Walker might have been waiting for him to leave so he could finish undressing. So, like a well-mannered man from the nineteen-very-long-ago-hundreds, he gave a not-so-well-disguised look at Walker's chest, at least he could claim he was checking the wound that appeared discreetly near his shoulder, even though he noticed the blond hairs on that pale, scarred skin, the more robust build, not muscular, but something more... God, he would hate himself for needing to heed the comments he'd read online about Walker and his sexy dad body, but that was exactly it. He still nodded as he spun on his heels, Walker's clothes forgotten on the bench and then the door closing behind him.
He was so fucked. But... at least he had resisted John Walker.
Of course he had stayed there, standing by the door, as if he were still thinking about going back to exercise, and not because he was worried about Walker's wound and the shower... and the wet body under the water jets. He stood there while he heard John's grumbles, perhaps stripping off his pants. He heard the shoe hit the floor, maybe thrown. He heard the shower... And then the gasp of something between surprise and pain, almost as if Walker had forgotten he had an open wound that ran through his body right at the height of his shoulder. He sketched a smile and had to shake his head to focus on what he heard, and not on what he imagined.
When the sounds ceased, he figured Walker was fine. He could stop acting like a guard dog at the door waiting for his owner...
"Shit!" he heard the complaint and couldn't help but go back to the locker room.
He should have stayed outside. One thing was seeing Walker sweaty, injured, and with pants on. Another entirely was seeing that man fresh out of the shower, with a towel poorly wrapped around his waist leaving a very obvious path for the imagination.
"Buck...?" Walker had been startled by Bucky's almost rough entrance. "Changed your mind?" It was a joke, Walker's smile indicated he was doing that to lighten the mood because—to no one's surprise—he was nervous, not that Bucky wasn't either.
"Think I have." he replied while closing that stupid distance.
His hand touched Walker's face the same way, or almost, that Walker had touched him when they had fallen rolling over each other. The difference was that his mouth was close to Walker's, and Walker's hands were on his waist in that firm, somewhat nervous grip.
"I already got out of the shower..." he almost whispered, his lips even grazing Bucky's.
"Great, I'll help you with the rest."
And it was Bucky who closed the distance, it was Bucky who sealed his mouth to Walker's, letting his tongue trace that warm skin before nibbling at it and then nearly moaning when Walker actually kissed him back. Something much more body-and-everything-else than just a kiss to satisfy some curiosity.
In the end, Bucky wasn't as strong a man as he imagined... In the end, he wasn't immune to John Walker.
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𝔼𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕖:
When Bucky woke up, his eyes still heavy from a well-rested sleep, a yawn fighting against the muscles of his jaw, stretching them to the max, almost to the point of making them crack. The bed empty beside him, somewhat messy, but it couldn't have been any different given what they'd done for most of the night, well into the early morning.
The light from the windows was still diffuse, the clouds still covering the sunlight that seemed shy—if it were as shy as Walker was, in half a second it would show its true power. He smiled at the thought, stretched out in bed and reached for his phone, which was blinking on the nightstand.
The alert was something he already expected to find, Walker's fans online, this time the trending topic was: 'He would definitely bring breakfast in bed, after an intense night where his partner couldn't even feel her legs.'
And just as Walker walked in with a tray in his hands, it made Bucky laugh out loud, a contagious laugh that caught Walker by surprise.
"Yeah, you guys are absolutely right."
Walker didn't know who Bucky was talking to, but he couldn't ask when he was pulled back into bed, nearly dropping the coffee tray.