winterhawkkisses:

“No,” Bucky whispered, horror struck. He stepped back automatically and Steve’s hands came up to hold his shoulders, the support grounding and settling and allowing him to catch his breath. 

“Buck?”

Bucky whirled around on his heel, staring up at Steve, who looked worried at the stress that was no doubt clear on his face. 

“I am not going in there,” he insisted, keeping his voice steady, trimmed fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. “I am not going in there and you can’t make me.” 

“Okay,” Steve said seriously, taking hold of Bucky’s elbows and backing up, “that’s okay, Bucky, we can -” he was looking over Bucky’s shoulder, bemused, like there was absolutely nothing wrong with the scene taking place in the kitchen. Like it was perfectly normal to walk in for breakfast and see the object of his unrequited feelings in heart-covered boxers with tiny golden wings strapped onto his back. 

“His abs, Steven,” Bucky groaned, almost all the way under his breath, and the stress faded from Steve’s eyes to be replaced by wicked amusement. But his grip didn’t falter, he kept towing Bucky gently away, and no matter what else happened Steve was always gonna be his best guy. 

“Morning, Clint,” Steve said over Bucky, laughter clear in the tone of his voice. “Nice wings.”

“Lost a bet,” Clint said easily. “Happy Valentines Cap, Bucky.” 

“Shit,” Bucky hissed. “He saw me?”

Steve choked on a laugh. 

“Pretty sure he just blew a kiss to your ass,” he said.