Bucky laid on the old couch of his cruddy Brooklyn apartment, listening to the radio spew Sinatra and static. His eyes flew open as a scrawny blond stumbled into the apartment, barely making it to the sofa before collapsing on top of Bucky.

"Jesus Christ, Steve! What the hell happened to you?"

Steve squirted at Bucky blearily. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was flushed. He mumbled something  inaudible and pressed his face into the brunet's neck. Bucky shifted so that they were both sitting on the couch, with Steve leaning on Bucky. The blond grinned up at him.

"Found a liquor store."

"Good God, Steve, don't tell me you drank it."

Steve snorted. "Didn't need to, Buck. 'M a fuckin' lightweight. Only need a few beers to make me drunk as a skunk." He pressed closer to Bucky. "I wanna do something I’ll regret."

Bucky stood abruptly, causing Steve to topple over. He placed quickly over the moth-eaten rug.

"Steve, no! God, no! What were you thinking?" He stopped in front of the blond. "You do things you regret when you're sober! What are you going to do when you're drunk, fly a plane into the ocean?"

Steve stared at the floor. "Actually," he spoke quietly. "I was hoping to tell you something, but I guess not." He struggled to his feet and started towards his room, but Bucky grabbed his arm, stopping in his tracks.

"What was it?"

Steve avoided his eyes. "What was what?"

"Nice try, Rogers. What did you want to tell me?"

"It was nothing, Buck. Let me go."

"What happened to doing something you'll regret? Are you even drunk anymore?"

Steve tried to hit the brunet. "Let me go, Bucky! I'm not going to tell you!"

Bucky wrestled Steve's arms behind his back. "Tell me, Steve. I can stand here all night."

Steve kicked him in the shin. "Screw you, Barnes! Let me go!" He was screaming at the top of his lungs, clawing at Bucky's arms.

The brunet put him in a chokehold with one arm, using the other arm to cover Steve's mouth. "I'm not going to let you go until you tell me what you had to get wasted to say."

Quiet wheezing noises came from under Bucky's hand. The blond's eyes were wide, and his face had gone pale. Bucky quickly released him and grabbed his inhaler.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Steve. I forgot your asthma." He waited until Steve's breathing had returned to normal before leading him back to the sofa.

"Are you alright?" Steve shook his head mutely. "Do you need a glass of water?" The blond nodded, and Bucky stood. "Stay here, got it?" He grabbed a glass from an old cabinet and filled it with water. He sat at the opposite end of the couch and handed Steve the glass, watching Steve take small sips of water until it was empty.

"Are you ready to tell me?" Steve shook his head. "Why not?"

The blond curled into a ball. "You'd hate me."

"You wouldn't get arrested for it, would you?"

Steve shrugged. "I dunno."

Bucky's eyes widened. "You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

Steve gave him a look and held up his skinny arms. "Do I look capable of murder to you?"

"Just making sure. Truthfully, I couldn't care less if you killed someone, as long as you properly dispose of the body."

"Obviously."

"So, what is it?"

Steve's smile fell. "What?"

Bucky sighed. "What could be so bad that you had to get completely wasted to tell me, that you might get arrested for, that isn't murder?"

Steve suddenly became interested in his shoes. "Imaybelikeboysandgirls." Bucky paused. "Oh."

Steve studied the holes in the sofa. "If you're not okay with it, I’ll be gone by tomorrow."

Bucky suddenly unfroze. "No! Come on, Steve, really? You think I didn't notice you staring at the guys on the boardwalk?"

Steve stared at him. "You knew the whole fucking time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you wanted to tell me in your own time! You seriously scared me, Steve! I thought you had actually, like, won a fight or something!"

Steve glared at him. "Why are you being so accepting? You should be getting angry and throwing bibles at me!"

Bucky pressed his hand to his forehead and sighed. "First of all, Steve, I don't have any bibles, I'm an atheist. Second, why wouldn't I be accepting? I'm gay as hell."

Steve blinked. "What?"

"Yes, I'm atheist. I thought you knew."

Steve punched Bucky in the arm. "You know that's not what I meant. Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Cause it might make things awkward."

"Why would it make things awkward?"

"Because that's not the only part of it."

"What's the other part of it?"

"Don't be nosy, Steve. I’ll tell you when I'm ready."

"Come on, Bucky, please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"No, Steve. Go to bed."

The blond grinned. "Only if you come with me."

Bucky stared at him. "What kind of drunk are you? First you're giggly, then you're flirty, then sad, then angry, then shy, then back to flirty. Make up your mind."

Steve pouted. "I'm serious, Buck. Come on." He tugged at the brunet's arm.

Bucky sighed and let himself be dragged to Steve's room.

Steve flopped onto his bed as Bucky sat in the stiff wooden chair next to him. "Tell me a story."

Bucky laughed. "I don't know any."

"Sure you do. Your ma told you bedtime stories, same as me."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You want me to tell you a bedtime story?" Steve nodded excitedly. "The Ugly Duckling." Bucky groaned. "I'm a terrible storyteller."

Steve pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'm a terrible singer, but you tolerate me. You'll be fine, I'm half asleep anyways."

"Fine. Okay, so there was this ugly-ass baby duck who kept getting picked on by the other ducks for looking like a horse's rear. At some point he ran away. He found a lightly used nest and hid in it for the whole Winter, which sounds impossible, but he managed it. When he woke up from a long nap, he realized that it was Spring and decided to go for a swim, where he saw his reflection and discovered he was a handsome swan, and had the willpower not to rub it in everyone's faces. The end."

Bucky checked to see if Steve was asleep. He stood and walked to the door, looking back at the blond.

He knelt by the bed and pressed his lips to Steve's forehead. As he stood, he heard a quiet voice from the bed.

"What was that?" Bucky turned. Steve was staring at him with wide eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Ask me again tomorrow if you remember." He gently shut the door and and crept to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve's eyes opened to the brightest light he had ever had the displeasure of encountering. He looked over at his newsstand to see a bowl of soup and a glass of water.

He let his head drop back onto his pillow, closing his eyes and trying to remember the previous night. Small bits of conversation rushed through his head, and he groaned. He had flirted with Bucky. He shoved his head under the pillow as more memories flirted across his mind.

A few hours later, the blond woke up to a slightly dimmer light, and a very concerned Bucky sitting next to his bed. The brunet smiled when he saw that Steve was awake.

"Hey," he said. "You alright?"

Steve propped himself up on his elbows. "I guess. How bad was I?"

Bucky chuckled. "I've seen worse. I can't believe you got drunk from just a few beers."

An awkward silence passed.

"So," Steve began. "Are you hoping I forgot, or are you going to get around to answering my question?"

Bucky paled slightly. "What question?"

The blond sighed. "Nice try, Barnes. I remember everything."

The brunet put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Steve. That was the other part I was talking about."

"Oh."

Bucky stood. "Yeah." He took the washcloth from Steve's head. "I’ll be back in a second."

A few minutes later, Bucky returned with a fresh washcloth and a glass of water. He set the glass on the bedside table. "Do you need anything else?" He asked, gently placing the cloth on Steve's forehead.

"Yeah," Steve said. "One more thing." He grabbed Bucky's collar and connected his lips to the brunet's.

After a few minutes, Steve had to pull away to breathe. Bucky fell back, almost hitting his head on the corner of the chair. He was smiling like an idiot, and so was Steve. The blond laughed. "I've been wanting to do that for five years."