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[wipedclean]

[The soldier is usually pretty stern, intimidating, all that jazz, but right now he's downright grumpy. And... snarly. Clearly he's not in a good mood.]

Why. The fuck. Are these fucking fireflies everywhere?

[Speaking of, here's one fluttering against his shoulder right now. His hand slams down on top of it, squashing it. He growls.]

They are getting in the way and they are making Steve forget he has to eat. Is there a way to stop them other than crushing them one by one?

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[wipedclean]

[He ducks his head a little to let Steve touch, taking a breath even though the feeling is so slight. No one... no one touches him. Not gently. Not softly. He holds his breath, waiting, for... for what, he's not sure.]

[prespangled]

[There's a trust there. Others might not understand it, might even call it dangerous. There's things that the two of them don't even understand. Steve lets his touch linger to show him that there's no pain here, there's no betrayal. There's only a gentleness and an easy affection that Bucky showed him first.

Steve eventually lets his hand fall back down to his stomach, eyes close as he nods off for a little bit of much needed sleep.]

[wipedclean]

[He watches Steve sleep for a long moment, then looks at the jar in his hand. He sighs, then opens the jar and encourages a few of the fireflies out and back into the wild until there aren't quite so many. Maybe that will lessen the effect a bit.

Then he makes sure the bugs have something to eat before he screws the lid back on and sets the jar down, turning his attention back to Steve.

It's too cold out here for Steve to sleep out here. He sighs, then wraps Steve's hands around the jar until they're grasping it, then picks Steve up in his arms, his head against his shoulder, and gently carries him back to the apartment. He goes slowly, carefully, quietly, so as not to wake him.

Once back at the apartment, he lays Steve down in bed and puts the jar of fireflies on the bedside table and starts to tuck Steve in, covering him up and making him comfortable and then moving to leave.]

[prespangled]

[Steve doesn't wake the whole way back, doesn't even come close. He's not aware of how the warmth in him actually intensifies either, even after Bucky's let some of the fireflies go.

He sinks into his oddly shaped bed, which is still nicer than his old one with its mattress worn so thin that sleeping on a sheet of paper would probably have been just as comfortable. Steve rolls onto his side, one hand reaching out to hook two fingers in Bucky's sleeve when he turns to go, mutual anchors.]

[wipedclean]

[He could have tugged away easily. Steve's hold is light, instinctive. But it stops the soldier in his tracks more effectively than any order. He stares down at the sleeping man, stares at their point of connection, and sits down on the bed next to him.

Staring for a little while longer, and perhaps driven by the warmth emanating from both the fireflies and Steve's sleeping form, the soldier takes Steve's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He feels calm. At peace in a way he's not sure he's ever felt before. Slowly, he lies down on the bed next to Steve and watches him a while before falling asleep himself, their fingers still laced together between them.]