Chapter Text
Bucky had always driven Steve crazy, so it wasn’t like this was anything new.
Though Steve would have liked to have at least slept once in his lifetime without having to endure a horrible asthma attack just to pass out.
Bucky was being loud. Steve knew he was always loud because their walls were real thin and didn’t hold anything back. This was different though. Bucky was being too loud – louder than he’d ever been before. Steve couldn’t even hear the dame he was being rowdy with – he could only hear his best friend. Plus, it had been going on for the last two hours, which wasn’t that unusual, but Steve needed to get up early and was increasingly growing more and more frustrated.
The sex can’t be that great, Steve thought. Bucky was probably overplaying it – some girls liked that, not that Steve really knew anything about girls. He’d been on a couple of dates, here and there, mostly double dates where both girls seemed more interested in Bucky than him. Steve wasn’t upset about it, not really. Would he have liked to have that kind of attention on him at some point in his life? Yes. Was he going to ruin Bucky’s fun because he was jealous? No. Never.
Bucky couldn’t help the way he looked. Steve was pretty sure Bucky had realized how attractive he was a long time ago – Bucky sure put it to good use. In Steve’s correct opinion, Bucky was the definition of a ladies’ man. Charming, handsome, charismatic – a gentleman, and the girls loved that.
Next to Bucky, Steve was outmatched in those kind of qualities. He was a little awkward, his social skills could have used some work. He wasn’t good with talking to girls, he never knew what to say – he didn’t have the lines or moves like Bucky did. Steve would like to think he would have been a gentleman given the chance – he’d like to think he’d treat the right girl right if he could.
A particular guttural moan jerked Steve out from his thoughts, and he decided he’d had enough. How was this even normal?
Steve slipped off of his ratty mattress and padded across the floor to his door. He went out into the hall in only his shorts – it was early summertime and already hot as hell, but he liked it. His asthma was worse in the winter – it was nice having a break. He shuffled over to his best friend’s room where the sounds of sex were still happening. Even when he was standing right outside of Bucky’s door, he could only hear Bucky and not whatever girl he was apparently having such a great time with.
Steve held his head high as he knocked on Bucky’s door, a little loudly as he wasn’t sure Bucky would have been able to hear him otherwise.
It took a bit of time, but eventually the door was opening, only about a foot though. Bucky peered out at him, face flushed and eyes dark. His chest was bare and heaving, sweat glistening on his abdomen. “Hey, pal,” he greeted breathlessly. “What’s up?”
Steve glared at him.
As if you don’t already know.
“What’s up? It’s late and I can’t sleep.” Steve lifted himself slightly in an attempt to see further into Bucky’s room, but Bucky shifted to the side, blocking his view completely. Steve dropped back down from his tiptoes, landing flat on his feet. “Jeez, is she alive in there?”
“Who?” Bucky cocked a brow at him questioningly.
Steve’s eyes locked with his again, “Whoever has been making you-” he imitated a moaning sound, he blamed his exhaustion- “do that for the last couple of hours.”
Bucky blinked as if he was trying to refocus, “Oh, right, her, she’s uh- she’s sleeping.”
After that, I would be too, Steve thought distantly before shaking his head.
“So, you two are done then?” He asked out loud.
“Done? Uh, well, almost,” Bucky uttered, his cheeks reddening. It wasn’t something Steve saw often – Bucky was usually pretty shameless about these kinds of things. Steve had definitely sat through enough tales of his best friend’s provocative lifestyle to know that to be true.
“Almost?” Steve squinted up at him. “Sounds like it has been almost for a while now.” He crossed his small arms over his chest, “I need to get up in a few hours, but I can’t sleep with all the noise.”
“You’ve been- you’ve been listening to me this whole time?” Bucky straightened, his brows furrowing. “Why didn’t you say something to me before?”
Steve didn’t back up, “I’ve been trying to sleep. I hoped you’d eventually tire yourself out and go to bed as well.” He sighed, “I’m just glad I could only hear you though... I guess – some of the girls you bring back here aren’t so discreet.”
Bucky gave him a full-fledged grin, “So, it’s just me keeping you up, hm? You know curiosity killed the cat, right, Rogers?”
Steve studied Bucky’s expression for a moment before rolling his eyes and punching his best friend in the arm. Steve winced as he dropped his hand back to his side – he was certain his hand hurt more than Bucky’s arm did. “It isn’t like that,” Steve grumbled. “Just- just hurry up and go to bed. I’m tired.” He pivoted slightly and looked back at Bucky. “I mean it,” he added before he went back down the hallway to his own room. It wasn’t a far trek – his room was directly next to Bucky’s in their small apartment.
Steve lay back down on his bed before pulling the thin sheet up over himself. He closed his eyes, sighing softly.
When the noise started up again, it was different than before. For one thing, it was somehow louder.
Steve scowled and rolled over onto his other side, facing away from the wall that separated their bedrooms – he held his pillow around his head, trying to muffle the sounds from Bucky’s room.
The other thing, probably the more annoying thing, was that it wasn’t just sounds as it had been before – Bucky was actually talking now.
Steve tried not to listen, he really did. For one hysterical moment he wondered if he should listen, if only to learn what girls liked to hear in the bedroom. But after actually listening to what was coming out of Bucky’s mouth, he decided that he’d rather chew through his own arm than ever talk like that to anyone. It wasn’t awful dirty talk or anything, Steve could admit – he was just sure that he’d never have the confidence to say any of it. Ever.
Steve lay there for another several minutes, hoping to God he wouldn’t have to get up and confront Bucky again. Eventually Bucky got to the point where he wasn’t making any lick of sense and the smacking of his headboard against the wall got violent as he shouted out in bliss, presumably arriving.
Finally.
Steve listened for a bit longer, hoping Bucky was done. He waited to hear the dame leave, but those sounds never came. He frowned but guessed she was sleeping over or whatever, though he knew that Bucky knew that he didn’t like that. Steve shrugged it off, finally closing his eyes and relaxing before drifting off to sleep.
When Steve got up early a few hours later, he was surprised to discover that Bucky was already gone. It wasn’t too bothersome though, sometimes Bucky had to be out early for work. Steve went out and got his stuff done as he always did before returning home. He heated up some broth before settling down on the couch. He used one hand to hold his mug, alternating between blowing on the steam and sipping the broth, while he used his other hand to work in his sketchbook.
A few hours later, the sky outside the window he was now sitting next to started to darken, and Bucky had yet to come back home. Steve wasn’t too worried though as Bucky sometimes worked longer days. Though when the sun was completely set and the moon rose into its place, Steve felt his first brush of concern.
It’s nothing, Steve tried to convince himself. Just long hours. Probably had a late shipment come in or something.
Steve closed his sketchbook, placing it onto the coffee table before rising to his feet. He ventured into their small kitchen and began making dinner, knowing Bucky would probably want to eat the second he got in the door. He heated up the last of the leftover broth and started to cut up some vegetables to add into it to make soup. Dinner didn’t take him long to make, but Steve had hoped by the time he was dishing up that Bucky would have appeared. And he hadn’t. Steve only served himself a portion of soup, leaving the rest on the stove – he could heat it back up when Bucky finally came home. Steve sat by himself at the table, eating his soup slowly.
Steve finished his dinner, took a glance at the door and sighed, getting to his feet. He went over to the sink, gathering up his dishes from the day before filling the sink with soap and water. He was past worry- past concern- now, he was just pissed off.
Where is he?
Not even his boss would have kept him this late – this couldn’t just have been long hours at work. Something else had to be at play here.
Steve tied his apron around his waist so he wouldn’t get water splashed up onto himself and rolled up his sleeves before he began to wash his dishes.
He was just starting on his bowls when Bucky came home.
Bucky stumbled in, the door hitting the wall as it swung in before he slammed it shut.
Steve looked over at him, expecting anger because of the aggressive entrance, but he immediately rolled his eyes when he saw the grin on his best friend’s face. He was drunk. He had gone out drinking and Steve had been worried.
Bucky staggered over, hitting his hip off their small dining table before stabilizing himself on the chair Steve had previously been sitting in.
Even though it was crystal clear where he had been, Steve still felt the need to ask, “Where were you?”
“Out,” Bucky replied vaguely with a shrug – he let out a small hiccup.
Steve faced the sink again, trying to concentrate back on the task at hand.
“Were you with that girl again?” Steve questioned, his anger getting the better of him. He should have known that Bucky had just been out partying after work. He shouldn’t have let himself spiral with worry. He knew how unpredictable Bucky could be – how impulsive.
Bucky’s face scrunched up, “Who?”
Steve rolled his eyes again, “The girl from last night. The one that kept you and me up.” There wasn’t a chance in hell that Bucky had forgotten her that quickly, not with the ‘show’ he’d been putting on the night before. “When did she end up leaving, anyways? You know I don’t like when you let strangers stay the night.” His request wasn’t just because he was worried the girls that Bucky brought home would steal anything (they didn’t really have anything worth anything), it was more so a privacy thing. Steve wanted to feel safe in his own home, he didn’t think it was that big of an ask. Plus, Bucky had already agreed to those terms when they’d decided to move in together. So, logically Steve decided that he had the right to know.
Bucky sounded annoyed when he spoke up again, “What’s with the third degree?” He dropped down in a chair at the table with a thud.
Steve placed the clean bowl he’d been working on face down on the small mat next to the sink, “I was only curious because you know the rules. I just- I didn’t hear her leave last night.” He glanced back at him, hoping he’d jogged his memory.
Bucky seemed to remember by some miracle – Steve was sure the alcohol in his system wasn’t doing him any favours.
“Oh, her, right.” Bucky nodded. “You probably didn’t hear her... because she- she’s smaller.” Bucky looked Steve up and down, “Kind of like your size, actually,” he half-muttered, but Steve still heard him.
Steve went to roll his eyes again, but he was afraid they’d actually get stuck this time. “That’s not funny,” he stated, turning back to the sink. Steve barely heard the chair scratch across the floor as Bucky rose back up to his feet as he was actively trying to ignore him now. Though he suddenly couldn’t when Bucky somehow got across the kitchen without making so much as a peep – he stood right behind Steve, panting shallowly. Steve went on trying to not pay attention to Bucky, but he seemed set on getting noticed.
Bucky’s arms came up, his hands gripping at the edges of the wet counter, caging Steve in. “Who’s joking?” Bucky breathed on the back of his neck.
Steve snorted. He knew Bucky was just messing with him because he had talked back. He was an asshole like that. “How much did you drink, Buck? You smell like a distillery.” Steve continued to wash his other bowl – there was a dried piece of carrot or celery stuck to the bottom really bad.
Bucky didn’t reply. However, he did press closer to Steve – close enough that Steve could feel that he was hard.
Steve sighed again. He was getting really sick of whatever joke Bucky was trying to play. “You should dish up your dinner so I can wash the pot,” he said. “I’m sure you could use something else in your system.”
Bucky stepped back and Steve exhaled in relief – he truly wasn’t in the mood to fight. He was sure that Bucky had been trying to provoke him. Steve finished up the last few utensils before setting them on the mat to dry as well. He decided to leave the water, so he could wash the pot once Bucky had eaten his dinner. Steve turned around to dry his hands on the dish cloth but came to a startling stop when he realized that although Bucky had stepped back, he hadn’t actually moved away.
“Really, Buck? What? Am I supposed to dry my hands on you?” Steve quipped, cocking a brow. Maybe if he joined in on the joke, Bucky would let him be. Steve was honestly too tired to deal with this right now. He hoped to get more sleep tonight than he had yesterday.
Bucky’s eyes remained glazed over as he lifted his hands up and covered Steve’s chest with them, which wasn’t hard to do seeing as he was much larger than Steve was. “Smaller,” he murmured, followed by another word that Steve couldn’t make out.
“What?” Steve pulled a face, confused. “You know I can’t hear you when you mumble, Buck.”
Bucky squeezed Steve’s chest, whispering, “Small tits.”
In that moment, Steve lost whatever patience he had and smacked Bucky’s hands away harshly, “What is with you?” He tried to move around Bucky, but he was blocked. “This isn’t funny anymore,” Steve hissed.
Bucky didn’t seem to hear him or had just flat out ignored him, most likely the latter. He leaned in and Steve just froze. Bucky brushed his lips up the side of Steve’s neck, until he reached below his ear, before they parted and his tongue swiped out against the skin.
Steve panicked and shoved Bucky backwards with everything he had. He was sure it wouldn’t have worked if Bucky had been sober.
Bucky stumbled back and almost fell but managed to catch himself on the dining table. Bucky blinked a few times quickly, his eyes losing the glaze, refocusing. He looked to Steve, covering his mouth with his hand.
Steve reached up, touching the side of his neck, feeling the wetness of Bucky’s lips and tongue there. He swallowed hard as he peered over Bucky, wide-eyed.
They stared at one another for a long time before Bucky dropped his hand to his side, his mouth opening, “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry- I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.” He seemed just as panicked at Steve felt.
Steve, forgetting about his wet hands, rushed leave the room. He flinched back when Bucky reached out for him, knocking into the wall with a loud thud. He couldn’t breathe. He was terrified, he couldn’t help it. Steve ran into his room, slammed and locked the door before leaning up against it. He slid down, landed on his butt and pulled his knees up to his chest. He was hyperventilating and he knew he had to calm himself down or he would trigger a full-on asthma attack – which would undoubtedly make everything worse. Though he wasn’t sure how things could get worse.
What the hell had that been? Bucky had been drunk around him before but he’d never acted like that. He had never touched Steve like that before. Steve covered the side of his neck again before scrubbing at it- scrubbing off his best friend’s saliva. What had Bucky been thinking? Why would he even-
Steve’s endless stream of questions cut off when a knock sounded at his door.
No, no, please go away.
“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky spoke through the door. “I- I don’t know what I was thinking.” Despite being overly drunk before, Bucky sounded sober. Stone cold sober and scared. “I wasn’t thinking. I got too wrapped up in-” he cut off with a clicking of his tongue. “Steve, please talk to me- just open the door.”
“Go away, Buck,” Steve snapped. He couldn’t deal with this now. He couldn’t deal with anything right now.
Another sigh, followed by the unmistakable sound of Bucky sliding down his door and thudding onto the floor on the other side. “I’m not leaving until you open the door,” he told him. Unwavering stubbornness, a trait they both had.
Then I guess you’re sleeping out there, Steve thought pettily. He got up and changed for bed before crawling onto his mattress. It took him a while to fall asleep, but eventually, after Bucky started to snore out in the hall, he was able to.
In the morning, Steve stepped over Bucky who had fallen over some time in the night and was sleeping on his side in the hallway. He looked really uncomfortable and part of Steve hoped he had a crick in his neck when he woke up. Steve didn’t wake him. He had a quick breakfast before heading out. He didn’t have anything to do today, but he couldn’t stay at the apartment because he knew Bucky had today off as well. And the last thing Steve wanted to do right now was spend the day around him after last night. So, instead he went for a walk. A long walk. Long enough that the sun was setting when he returned to the apartment. It hadn’t been out of spite, to make Bucky worry about him as Steve had when his best friend had been out drinking the night before. Steve had honestly lost track of time – he had been too overwhelmed by his thoughts. He still had all of these questions, but he- he didn’t know if he wanted the answers. What if they were bad? He wasn’t sure what these ‘bad answers’ would have been, but he found that he didn’t want to think about it too much. His head already hurt; he didn’t want to make it any worse.
Steve jogged up the steps before getting to their door. He hesitated for a moment, his key hovering into front of the knob – his hand shaking just a little with his nerves. He could smell that Bucky was making dinner, the scents of cooking slipping out from under their door and into the corridor. Steve wanted to wait a bit longer, but at the rumbling of his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t had anything to eat since the earlier hours of the day, he decided to just go inside.
Steve didn’t look or talk to Bucky as he shut the door behind himself and toed off his shoes. He shuffled over to the tiny window enclave and sat down, propping up one knee as he retrieved his sketchbook off the coffee table. He flipped through it for a bit, just glancing over past drawings in lieu of talking to Bucky.
A little later, Bucky came over and set two steaming bowls down on the table. He sat on the couch, not speaking, and began to eat his own dinner.
Steve reached over and grabbed his bowl, continuing to flip through his sketches while he ate. It was really good. Soup, but heartier, which meant Bucky had gone out for meat- which meant he was guilty as hell.
Bucky finished his food quickly before going over and washing his dish in the sink, which was almost scary because he never washed anything right away.
Definitely guilty, Steve noted without looking up.
Steve continued to eat without mentioning anything. When he was done, he placed his empty bowl back down on the coffee table, deciding to wash it later. It would probably be a while before he washed anything in front of Bucky again. A while before he turned his back on Bucky, too.
However, he apparently hadn’t needed to worry about it, as Bucky instantly picked up his bowl and went over to wash it as well. Bucky returned, but only to sit on the couch and stare at Steve.
Steve still didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t really want to talk about what had happened either. Eventually though, he couldn’t handle Bucky’s eyes on him anymore.
“You were drunk, Buck,” Steve said, closing his sketchbook before placing it on the coffee table. He twisted, dropping both of his feet onto the floor as he faced his best friend. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
Bucky frowned. “I’m sorry that I scared you,” he apologized quietly.
We’re really doing this, aren’t we?
Steve sighed again, clasping his hands in his lap, “You’re right, you did,” he confirmed. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that Bucky had scared him, he had very obviously been terrified last night, there would be no point in lying about it. Steve went on, “I don’t even wanna think about what would have happened if you were more drunk and more…” horny “well, you were probably still satiated from the night before.”
Bucky didn’t laugh, “I was really, really drunk. I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk around you before. I’ve tried not to be, in fact.”
Steve frowned a bit. He found it a little odd that Bucky would have felt the need to specify that. Why would it have mattered that he in particular had been the one that Bucky had been around? Would Bucky not have tried something like that on someone else?
“Was-” Steve stalled, clearing his throat. He didn’t know if he wanted the answer. “Was it just the booze, Buck?”
Bucky’s eyes flickered, something flashing in them, but it was gone before Steve could recognize it. The brunet lifted a brow, sitting up a bit straighter, “What do you mean?”
Steve studied him for a moment, his own eyes narrowing, “Was it-” Steve cut off again as he thought back to the night before. Bucky caging him in against the counter, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck, his erection pressing firmly up against Steve’s backside. Now that he was thinking about it, all of that seemed pretty intimate – almost as if Bucky had thought he’d been allowed to do those things. As if Steve had given him permission. As if Bucky had known that Steve had wanted it. Steve rubbed at the side of his neck, under his ear, feeling the ghost of Bucky’s mouth there. “Was it only because you were drunk? The way you were acting, I mean.”
Bucky scoffed, before cracking half a smile, “Of course.” His laugh was strained, but Steve didn’t notice.
Steve still felt as though Bucky wasn’t telling the whole truth but he decided to leave it. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation in the first place, and it was getting late. “Then I would appreciate it if you kept the drinking to a minimum or at least went back to the girl’s place,” Steve told him, leaning over to pick up his sketchbook once more.
“Yeah-” Bucky nodded- “sure.”
Steve gave him a tight smile, “Good, then it’s settled,” he said. “We never have to talk about this again.”
Bucky nodded some more, “Agreed.”