“And didn’t have giant wolf kids,” Steve points out. His grin is still there, drawn on more perfectly now and with a stronger chin, but it’s still Steve. Clothing aside. Muscles aside. Incredible washboard abs aside.

Now that the rush to be clothed is over, Steve can take his time. He smells the apprehension on Bucky, though, and his hand reaches out to lightly press against the small of his back, to hold him up a second. Light flickers from unseen sources on the gilt walls and bounces off of his friend’s features. Bucky has always been incredibly handsome, no one would deny him that, but this lighting, those dark eyes, and the love confession gives Steve all the leave he feels he needs to drop his head down to kiss Bucky.

He’s conscious enough to be slow about it, though. He remembers well what happened the last time he’d ended up on top of him. The soldier in his friend (Maybe boyfriend?) needs to have the ability to escape.

Steve just hopes he doesn’t want to.