His flesh hand touches the side of Steve's face, brushing at his beard with a smile. Just so he can feel the scratchy hair on his fingers. "Won't be the same without you," Bucky muses, trying to get that smile on Steve's face to return. As much as it pains him to stay here, it's the better option for the two of them, even if Bucky wants to be the one with Steve at all times, it's not possible. Not right now, anyway.
Maybe it will be easier, in the future. Hopefully the near future.
"But look at it this way: you've got a home to come back to." It should be obvious what he's trying to get at: even if Wakanda doesn't feel like home for Steve, even if he doesn't consider anyplace in particular his home, Bucky wants to be Steve's person to come back to. "I'll always wait for you, Steve."
And that's the moment that Steve loses it. Strong arms wind around Bucky and Steve clings to him. He doesn't care in that moment about food or sleep or anything except Bucky. His best friend. His port in the storm. Bucky had been there for everything. After the funeral. When he was sick. Words could not ever describe how he felt about Bucky, not to anyone.
Burying his face in Bucky's neck, he knows that he doesn't want to be anywhere else. He knows that he can't take the man with him, but he doesn't want Bucky to be stuck at home waiting for him either. That's not fair to Bucky. A shiver runs through him and he thinks of the war, all the people back home, waiting for soldiers that never returned.
He didn't want to do that to Bucky.
"You are my home," he tried to say, muffled against Bucky's neck. "Doesn't matter where."
Bucky makes a noise like a hum, tipping his head so it's resting against Steve. This is comforting, and right. Probably one of the only things in the world he knows for certain is complete right, something he wants. "Yeah," he agrees, even if he's just murmuring it, even if it's hardly audible. This is comforting, in a way so few things have been for so long. "You've been my home for a long time now."
He brushes a hand along Steve's back, smiling. "Even back in Brooklyn." He breathes in a contented noise, eyeing Steve with a playful smile, even if the angle means he probably won't be able to see it. "If we moved in together, what kinda furniture would you want to have?"
It's domestic of him, sure, but it's something he wants to think about.
"Home isn't where you rest your head." His hands moved easily enough up and down Bucky's back, his arms, anywhere that he could touch him. In his mind, Steve didn't care what he had or where he was as long as he had the knowledge that Bucky was safe. He knew that, in this place, Bucky was safe. He was protected. And he would help T'Challa fight as well, if he needed to. This was the best place for Bucky.
He would just have to come back more often.
His lips turned up in a wide grin as he pulled back to look at Bucky. "The first thing I want is a bed big enough for three." He chuckled. "Because then we might not break it." He sighed and moved away from Bucky, threading their fingers together as he thought it over.
"I want a drawing table." He blushed as he spoke, his smile turning a little more shy and awkward. "I miss it, you know? Drawing." He'd been so busy fighting that he couldn't even remember the last time he'd sketched anything.
Bucky sighs contentedly, arching into the touch. It's oddly comforting, in a way Bucky wouldn't have dreamed it would be. A part of him still sees Steve as the skinny asthmatic from Brooklyn who picked fights he couldn't win, who Bucky constantly rescued.
But it's nice, actually, being the one taken care of. Even if it's not something he can depend on. "A big bed, huh," he huffs a laugh. "Yeah. The palette is comfy enough, but it doesn't really give you room to stretch you, does it?" He leans in, squeezing Steve's hand, expression easy and cheerful. Yeah, that would be nice.
At Steve's request for a draw table, Bucky's expression turns to one of gentle delight. "I'd like that. I loved watchin' you draw. You'd need a desk for your art supplies too, wouldn't you?" He wouldn't be able to help himself, peeking through Steve's things to see what he's working on. Bucky can't even draw stick figures; Steve's the one with the talent.
The thing that Steve liked the most about Bucky is their shared past. Bucky would always be that kid he'd known forever, that kid who always protected him. And, sometimes, Bucky pulled him out of trouble when nobody else would have. That's what they did, they had each other's back. Always had, always would. For Steve, it may have taken them a little while longer to get here, but there was no way he was going back now.
"If I had my choice, room would be nice."
He remembered their little apartment so long ago. He'd keep his sketches out, not bothering to hide anything when he went to art school. Bucky always had seemed so interested in his work, even when it wasn't his best stuff. "Maybe a little art office," he said with a laugh "I could draw you like a french girl," he teased.
"That would be nice." Partially because that means Bucky would be able to snoop. "Maybe we could get an apartment here," he says, expression bright. "I'd still have to spend most of my time at the farm, but it'd be nice. A big, open space for us to live in. It'd be a lot nicer than our place in Brooklyn." He stretches out a little, looking incredibly content.
"A French girl, huh?" He laughs, getting the reference. It's a good thing they've spent a fair amount of their time watching movies. Bucky winks, smirking. "I might let you, Stevie." He makes a show of tugging at the knot tying his top to his shoulder, not actually making an effort to put it out of the tie.
His grin is absolutely mischievous now. "Would you want me to wear anything while you're drawing me?" He playfully brushing his hand against Steve's face. "A hat, a necklace... maybe something of yours?" He can't help it, whispering the suggestions in Steve's ear.
"A little place, just for two?" He smiled, picturing waking up in the morning with Bucky. Making him breakfast. Sipping coffee. Domestic things that he never thought he'd be able to have before. "Farm would be nice. You like the goats," he teased. "Hey, now nothing is better than Brooklyn. You can take the boy out, but you can't take the Brooklyn out of me."
"Might?" Steve closed his eyes and leaned into Bucky's touch, a small sigh slipping out. "You are easy to draw. Classic lines. Beautiful jaw," he whispered. The way that Bucky was whispering in his ear was getting to him in a beautiful way. A shiver ran through him as he pictured it.
His head shook and it was all he could do to remain calm. "No," he groaned, his voice taking on a rough tone to it. "Nothing. I want all you, Bucky. Just you. I want to draw what I see. Someone rough and beautiful," he murmured. "Wh... What of mine would you want, the shield," he tried to tease.
"Yeah!" Bucky says cheerfully, nodding. "Maybe we could get a bigger place, so you can have a room just for your art. It's not like I need all that much space, since I'm outdoors most of the day anyway," he smiles, imagining how it would look. How much fun it would be to spend a day lounging in Steve's art room, posing for him. He's done it before, but they've both changed so much.
Bucky winks at Steve. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Just you, me, lounging on some blankets." He can't help it, sneaking a kiss on Steve's temple, before he pulls back, a teasing smile on his lips.
"I'll do it. Me, naked, using your shield to cover me. It might be kind of scandalous otherwise, right?" But that's clearly more teasing, because Bucky would be more than willing to pose completely nude. He just has other things on his mind. "It's like the dames in pin-ups. They've always got something covering them up."
"You're too good to me. That's all there is." Steve smiled and he leaned in, not even bothering to hide it now. He presses his lips to Bucky's, one hand trailing down his good arm to his hand. "I'd love to see you, wearing only my shield," he moaned against Bucky's lips.
His fingers intertwined easily with Bucky's. "How about it's just me covering you up. Pinning you down. All of that?" Steve smirked, nuzzling his nose with Bucky's. "I'll draw you, then we'll act out what I draw."
"God," Bucky murmurs into the kiss, nodding, just slightly. He can't help the grin on his lips, at the idea. At how sexy that would be, at how it would be there private use of the shield.
He squeezes Steve's hand through the grip, his smile easy and relaxed. "Sounds like something outta one of those porn mags," Bucky says, but his eyes are half-lidded, his face flushed. "But I gotta admit, I think I want to act it out first, this time." They're so close together now, "maybe it'll inspire you," he purrs.
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no subject
Maybe it will be easier, in the future. Hopefully the near future.
"But look at it this way: you've got a home to come back to." It should be obvious what he's trying to get at: even if Wakanda doesn't feel like home for Steve, even if he doesn't consider anyplace in particular his home, Bucky wants to be Steve's person to come back to. "I'll always wait for you, Steve."
no subject
And that's the moment that Steve loses it. Strong arms wind around Bucky and Steve clings to him. He doesn't care in that moment about food or sleep or anything except Bucky. His best friend. His port in the storm. Bucky had been there for everything. After the funeral. When he was sick. Words could not ever describe how he felt about Bucky, not to anyone.
Burying his face in Bucky's neck, he knows that he doesn't want to be anywhere else. He knows that he can't take the man with him, but he doesn't want Bucky to be stuck at home waiting for him either. That's not fair to Bucky. A shiver runs through him and he thinks of the war, all the people back home, waiting for soldiers that never returned.
He didn't want to do that to Bucky.
"You are my home," he tried to say, muffled against Bucky's neck. "Doesn't matter where."
no subject
He brushes a hand along Steve's back, smiling. "Even back in Brooklyn." He breathes in a contented noise, eyeing Steve with a playful smile, even if the angle means he probably won't be able to see it. "If we moved in together, what kinda furniture would you want to have?"
It's domestic of him, sure, but it's something he wants to think about.
no subject
He would just have to come back more often.
His lips turned up in a wide grin as he pulled back to look at Bucky. "The first thing I want is a bed big enough for three." He chuckled. "Because then we might not break it." He sighed and moved away from Bucky, threading their fingers together as he thought it over.
"I want a drawing table." He blushed as he spoke, his smile turning a little more shy and awkward. "I miss it, you know? Drawing." He'd been so busy fighting that he couldn't even remember the last time he'd sketched anything.
no subject
But it's nice, actually, being the one taken care of. Even if it's not something he can depend on. "A big bed, huh," he huffs a laugh. "Yeah. The palette is comfy enough, but it doesn't really give you room to stretch you, does it?" He leans in, squeezing Steve's hand, expression easy and cheerful. Yeah, that would be nice.
At Steve's request for a draw table, Bucky's expression turns to one of gentle delight. "I'd like that. I loved watchin' you draw. You'd need a desk for your art supplies too, wouldn't you?" He wouldn't be able to help himself, peeking through Steve's things to see what he's working on. Bucky can't even draw stick figures; Steve's the one with the talent.
no subject
"If I had my choice, room would be nice."
He remembered their little apartment so long ago. He'd keep his sketches out, not bothering to hide anything when he went to art school. Bucky always had seemed so interested in his work, even when it wasn't his best stuff. "Maybe a little art office," he said with a laugh "I could draw you like a french girl," he teased.
no subject
"A French girl, huh?" He laughs, getting the reference. It's a good thing they've spent a fair amount of their time watching movies. Bucky winks, smirking. "I might let you, Stevie." He makes a show of tugging at the knot tying his top to his shoulder, not actually making an effort to put it out of the tie.
His grin is absolutely mischievous now. "Would you want me to wear anything while you're drawing me?" He playfully brushing his hand against Steve's face. "A hat, a necklace... maybe something of yours?" He can't help it, whispering the suggestions in Steve's ear.
no subject
"Might?" Steve closed his eyes and leaned into Bucky's touch, a small sigh slipping out. "You are easy to draw. Classic lines. Beautiful jaw," he whispered. The way that Bucky was whispering in his ear was getting to him in a beautiful way. A shiver ran through him as he pictured it.
His head shook and it was all he could do to remain calm. "No," he groaned, his voice taking on a rough tone to it. "Nothing. I want all you, Bucky. Just you. I want to draw what I see. Someone rough and beautiful," he murmured. "Wh... What of mine would you want, the shield," he tried to tease.
no subject
Bucky winks at Steve. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Just you, me, lounging on some blankets." He can't help it, sneaking a kiss on Steve's temple, before he pulls back, a teasing smile on his lips.
"I'll do it. Me, naked, using your shield to cover me. It might be kind of scandalous otherwise, right?" But that's clearly more teasing, because Bucky would be more than willing to pose completely nude. He just has other things on his mind. "It's like the dames in pin-ups. They've always got something covering them up."
no subject
His fingers intertwined easily with Bucky's. "How about it's just me covering you up. Pinning you down. All of that?" Steve smirked, nuzzling his nose with Bucky's. "I'll draw you, then we'll act out what I draw."
no subject
He squeezes Steve's hand through the grip, his smile easy and relaxed. "Sounds like something outta one of those porn mags," Bucky says, but his eyes are half-lidded, his face flushed. "But I gotta admit, I think I want to act it out first, this time." They're so close together now, "maybe it'll inspire you," he purrs.