-- oh dear diary, we fell apart.

[yourbestguysgun]

"... What do you mean record a message? Ain't the whole point it bein' the other way round. Stupid piece o' --."

☎ Call
☏ Text
✔ Voicemail

[ ooc: action is also a-okay, if you know where to find him. :) ]

Comments

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He grins, lifts his hand to lick his fingers clean. It's probably a bit more dirty than he's ever really been, but he's comfortable with Steve, and he knows he's ridiculous. ] Uh huh.

[punchedhitler]

[Steve's blush is ridiculous]

Geez.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Laughing, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and leaning in to nuzzle along his throat. ]

Sorry.

[punchedhitler]

You don't have to apologize.

[He holds onto Bucky like he's gripping to the world through him, like he'll float away otherwise. Steve's relaxed and calmer but the memory of the nightmare is still there.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's quiet for a moment before he shifts. ] I want you to do somethin' for me.

[punchedhitler]

What?

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Bucky shifts from underneath him, rolls on to his side to fish something out from one of the drawers. There's a clink, and he moves back, takes Steve's hand and presses two silver rectangles into his palm. His dog tags. ]

I'm not goin' home, so I reckon I don't need 'em anymore and I don't have anythin' else I can give you but this. [ It's a good thing it's dark, because Bucky couldn't do this in the open. ] I'm not goin' anywhere, and if you keep these then you'll keep knowin' that, right?

[punchedhitler]

[Steve takes them and feels them in the dark, his fingers tracing out Bucky's name. He holds them tight for a second, then reaches for his own (which he still puts on every morning, he doesn't like to sleep with them and never did) and strings them alongside his]

I'll keep them.

[He puts the tags back and presses his palm against Bucky's chest, quiet]

Is it idealism that makes me hope that everything back home turns out okay without us?

[yourbestguysgun]

No. [ Bucky keeps weighing up his own guilt over the matter. He doesn't want to die. It's fine to pretend that he's okay with it, but to know that if he ever did, his life is about to be snuffed out, it's awful. He doesn't want to leave Steve. ]

But I'm bein' selfish and I don't care.

[punchedhitler]

No, I guess you don't.

[Steve holds on tighter]

[yourbestguysgun]

You're mine. [ Curling into him, fingers a little too tight against his grip. ] And if the Red Skull or the Nazis've got anythin' to say about that, then they can come an' talk to me about it. I ain't letting you go.

[punchedhitler]

[He laughs a little but it's quiet]

I don't need you to protect me, Bucky.

[Words that have been said over and over again, for years]

[yourbestguysgun]

Tough.

[ Kissing him again. ] Doin' it anyway.

[punchedhitler]

[He accepts the kiss with a level of grace]

I know.

[yourbestguysgun]

Besides, we both belong to Crepe, so.

[punchedhitler]

I guess we do.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Not sure if Steve's going to go back to sleep or not, Bucky just ends up stroking the nape of his neck. ]

[punchedhitler]

[He doesn't sleep. But he does close his eyes, wrapped around Bucky, not letting go.]