"We've really been through it, huh?" The weariness of his tone doesn't fly past Steve, so he turns to look at his irritated boyfriend, staring with a frown out the window. Contemplating the world, it seems.

"Hmm?" Steve moves quietly to stand behind him, wrapping warm arms around his bare torso and resting his chin on his shoulder. Bucky shakes his head, bewildered.

"There's a goddamn pandemic, Steve. Again."

Steve nods, following his stormy gaze onto the empty streets below. Cars don't line the streets the way they used to, and their view of part of Central Park reveals only two lone joggers, easily keeping distance from each other. The sky is moody, clouds shrouding the silent world.

It's very quiet, and, while this had once been a comfort, in a previously bustling city exploding with life, the silence was unnerving.

"Like three world wars, f*cking Harambe, clown murders, and now the apocalypse. Also we're all on fire."

"It's a lot," Steve agrees, gently, as he looks at him from the corner of his eyes. Bucky's mouth is in a tight line. "Let's take our mind off it. Right?"

"Yeah," Bucky murmurs, squinting out the window. "You think this was planned to take care of the global warming and pollution our world is plagued by?"

Steve pulls him towards a puzzle he's pulled out. "Look, it's puppies in a basket." He smiles up at him. Bucky studies him a moment and sighs warily.

"And on top of all that I'm stuck with you."

"Sweetheart, you've been stuck with me since the 1910s."

"How have we not ended each other yet?"

Steve shrugs, emptying the box onto the hardwood floor. "I have the patience of a saint."

Bucky snorts a laugh as he sits across from him. "Oh, okay, Mr. I-Must-Fight-Everything-That-Moves."

Steve sprawls out onto his stomach, separating corner pieces from the rest. "No comment."

Bucky smiles at him as he watches him concentrate on the puppy puzzle, brow furrowed as if he's in a life or death situation. He joins in, separating colours from each other. It's a quiet moment amidst the calamity and Bucky tries to forget that the only reason they're doing this is because there are no other options.

"Know who I miss?" Steve rests his chin in his hand. "Nat."

"God, she's probably going insane."

////

Natasha sits amongst her potted plants, sipping red wine and stroking her Russian blue cat, Catastrophe. Quiet jazz floats through the apartment, and she smiles contentedly.

////

"I bet she's throwing knives at her wall or something," Steve responds. Bucky brightens at the suggestion, and Steve shoots him down, shooting him a look.

"Ah-no," Steve instead says. "Last time that happened you threw the knife so hard it went halfway into Mrs. Zubowski's living room."

Bucky starts putting together the border of the puzzle. "Coulda' been worse."

"How?"

Bucky shrugs and gives him his signature winning smile, the smile of I'm a beautiful innocent man and you love me. Steve could never argue with that smile.

"So how long is this gonna take?"

"Does time even matter anymore?" Steve replies with a small grin, moving pieces around. Bucky clicks his tongue.

"I thought I was the philosophical one."

"Well I've gotta be better than you at something."

"You're better at being a pain in the ass if that makes you feel better," he croons, and Steve pouts up at him.

"Jerk."

And then Bucky's grinning his classic grin, as he replies, "Punk."

So, at least for a moment in their topsy-turning world, they find a sliver of peace, and they are content.

////

Hi! I'm not dead! It's been long since due I threw something out there because it's been maybe... half a year now. So hi! Hope everyone is doing okay, I love you, take care of yourselves <3