“Hell yes I’m more excited to see her,” Steve barks, huffing slightly with the effort of their quick progress down the street. He had just gotten over a chest cold a few days ago and he’s still feeling it in his rib cage. It’s nothing like it had been for the past month and a half but it’s still uncomfortable and getting progressively more so as he forces himself to keep up with his own pace.
He’s never liked being weak. He doesn’t let it define him. If he can be stubborn about everything else, it’s all stemmed from his stubbornness to even be alive. It’s a small miracle that he made it to age ten, let alone nineteen.
He’ll need to remind Bucky that he owes him a present still, later, after they’ve both decided to come clean about understanding the situation the other is in. They’ve never really called each other out on it before and it’s not going to happen now, not when there’s more than just time separating them.
Steve shifts the bag he’s been given to his other hand to try and save the skin across his fingers from the heavy load. He watches Bucky set his own bag down to get his keys out and realization hits him smack in the face.
Bucky has never been a hands in pockets guy. And that hand, the one he’s kept on the far side of Steve, hasn’t moved. The blond narrows his green flecked blue eyes at his friend’s back, pressing his lips together. Bastard, hiding this from him! He wants to hit the guy so bad. He’ll do it too. He’ll lay his straight out for being a dick head and trying to hide from him for who knows how long.
He can feel the tears welling up again and this time he can’t stop them. He shifts the bag to his other hand again and tips forward until his forehead is against the back of Bucky’s shoulder.
“God, you’re such a god damned asshole,” he murmurs. His mother would hate the way he runs his mouth now. He likes to think she would understand though.
no subject
He’s never liked being weak. He doesn’t let it define him. If he can be stubborn about everything else, it’s all stemmed from his stubbornness to even be alive. It’s a small miracle that he made it to age ten, let alone nineteen.
He’ll need to remind Bucky that he owes him a present still, later, after they’ve both decided to come clean about understanding the situation the other is in. They’ve never really called each other out on it before and it’s not going to happen now, not when there’s more than just time separating them.
Steve shifts the bag he’s been given to his other hand to try and save the skin across his fingers from the heavy load. He watches Bucky set his own bag down to get his keys out and realization hits him smack in the face.
Bucky has never been a hands in pockets guy. And that hand, the one he’s kept on the far side of Steve, hasn’t moved. The blond narrows his green flecked blue eyes at his friend’s back, pressing his lips together. Bastard, hiding this from him! He wants to hit the guy so bad. He’ll do it too. He’ll lay his straight out for being a dick head and trying to hide from him for who knows how long.
He can feel the tears welling up again and this time he can’t stop them. He shifts the bag to his other hand again and tips forward until his forehead is against the back of Bucky’s shoulder.
“God, you’re such a god damned asshole,” he murmurs. His mother would hate the way he runs his mouth now. He likes to think she would understand though.