85 to the end. Last one, folks.

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"You have the most amazing eyes."

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"You have the most amazing eyes," Bucky murmured as he hovered over Steve one night. Steve blinked up at him and smiled, his cheeks flushed and warm. His eyes were dark blue, his pupils large as he studied his husband in the faint light.

Bucky stroked a hand through his hair and sat up, still straddling his lap. "I want to do something we haven't done in a while."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" He smiled in amusement as he sat and watched him. "What's that?"

Bucky smirked as he leaned closer. "Well, it requires me beating your *ss."

Ten minutes later they're bent over, perched on the bed. Steve was concentrating hard; Bucky was, somehow, losing.

"Pick a speed!" Bucky complained as he shifted positions to get more comfortable. Steve huffed and moved his hair away from his eyes to give him a better view of what he's doing.

"Look, my hands aren't meant to deal with... this." His thumb twitched over the stick as he concentrated and pressed his fingers harder.

Bucky closed his eyes as they finished round one. "Up for another go?" Steve asked as he sat back and stretched. Bucky grinned and nodded.

"I'll get you this time," he said.

Soon enough, Steve was chanting, "Faster, Bucky, go faster," and Bucky was giving it his all. Steve tossed his head to the side so he could see better and spread his legs out to sit more comfortably.

"Oh, I'm close, I'm close--!" Bucky finished first. They were silent for a second.

Steve looked at him as he dropped his controller. "You know, maybe Mario Kart wasn't such a great idea."

Bucky shrugged, considering. "I still count that as a win for me." He smirked and kissed him. "Love you, doll."

Steve rolled his eyes and smiled. "Love you too."

Okay that was just too amusing for me not to do it.

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"You know, it's okay to cry."

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Steve was a rock. Bucky had never known him to be a huge crier -- he always cut it off, never cried in front of Bucky, and hid everything away.

Even in their year of 2018, finally together, Steve never fully opened up emotionally. They'd been through Hell in recent years, and Bucky himself had even had a breakdown or two -- even showing his emotions to Steve; allowing himself to be vulnerable around the one person he trusted with his life. That had been hard on him especially -- vulnerability. And if he could do it, why couldn't Steve?

Bucky entered to see Steve sitting at the table, a blank sketchbook laid out in front of him. Steve twiddled a pencil between his fingers as he thought, but Bucky saw that look on his face.

He sat beside him and could practically see Steve close himself off. "Hey," Steve spoke, looking over and smiling. Bucky smiled a little and leaned on his arm as he studied him.

"Hey. You okay?"

Steve glanced back at his sketchbook and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, just trying to figure out what to draw," he mused and stared at the blank pages. Bucky watched him.

"That's not what I asked," he said softly and saw Steve pause.

"I'm... fine, why?" He shifted to look at him, raised his eyebrows. Bucky gave him a pointed look.

"None of us are fine, Steve," he chided. "I want you to be honest with me."

"I am," Steve defended, folding his arms defensively. Bucky watched him, eyes sorrowful. "I really am just fine, Buck. Don't worry about me," he said.

Bucky sat back and copied the gesture, and he waited. Steve sat in uncomfortable silence before shuffling in his seat again.

"It's just been a tiring couple of... years," Steve finally said with a tired little smile. Bucky could see how exhausted he really was -- how much these years had drained him. He didn't remember the last time he had cried, or laughed, anything more than a false smile.

"I know." Bucky sighed. No reaction from Steve as he stared off. Steve took a breath and stood, and Bucky watched him, frustrated with his lack of progress. He wanted to help him -- he wanted to get through to him.

Steve was up and walking away and Bucky almost lost him, but he lightly grabbed his wrist. Steve let him.

"Please," he muttered, avoiding his gaze. Bucky heard his breath hitch. "I don't..."

"Steve," Bucky said softly, turning him to face him. "You know, it's okay to cry."

He stared at him and pulled away, blinking hard. Bucky watched him rub his face, saw the slackening of his shoulders as he breathed out shakily. He shook his head and turned away, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Buck -- " His voice cracked and Bucky cautiously stepped closer.

He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, and Steve ducked his head as his eyes grew misty. It had been Hell, but maybe he could finally breathe. Bucky pulled Steve against him, turning so he was pressed against his chest, and Steve gently hugged him back and broke down.

"You were the most emotional kid when we were younger, remember?" Bucky held him close as Steve silently cried against his chest, his shoulders shaking. He cried for those lost, he cried in relief, he cried to make up for all those years he'd been keeping himself locked away from everyone and everything. "You're okay, Steve," Bucky murmured as he kissed the side of his head.

Steve could only nod his response as he pressed his face against him. Bucky held him close.

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"That's distracting."

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Bucky hated all this 'Captain America' business that Steve always got wrapped up in. Sure, he was only one of the Howling Commandos and his (illegitimate) husband, he definitely didn't deserve to see Steve every once in a while.

Fighting in a war was difficult. Having Steve gone every second day was annoying. Bucky was not having a good time in the army.

The only time they got between missions to take down Hydra, Cap business and general chaos of war, was every Saturday night. They would break away and retreat to somewhere -- a hotel a few miles away, a field, a run-down bar -- anywhere they could be themselves with no prying eyes.

"Captain, we have a meeting tonight with Mr. Foley, he says it's about the decrease in bond sales."

Steve glanced at his pocketwatch. "Unfortunately I have a prearranged meeting with a Sergeant," he said as he looked up. "Something about pay grade, I think."

He received a look, and Steve looked back apologetically.

"I'd normally push it to another night, but I've already put this off for long enough," he sighed as he pulled his jacket on.

"Captain -- "

"You understand, right?"

The man looked a little taken aback, but gathered himself and nodded hastily. "Of course," he responded. "I'll write down Foley's suggestions, shall I?"

Steve smiled politely and nodded once. "I appreciate that." He tilted his head and ducked out of the tent and took a breath.

He was probably going to pay for skipping out later, but Bucky already was getting impatient, and an impatient Bucky was a sad Bucky.

Nobody liked a sad Bucky.

They were meeting at the edge of Brooklyn, in an old, broken down bar that had been partially destroyed by explosions and debris from falling bombs. While Steve couldn't get drunk, they both appreciated the bitter-sweet of their surroundings all the same.

"Hey, soldier." Bucky lifted a glass to him, smiling. Steve smiled back and stepped over, tilting his hat up. Bucky pulled out a chair and sighed as he stared down at his whiskey.

Steve sat next to him and folded his arms on the table. "Sergeant," he replied. "What gives with the outfit?" Bucky was in his "special wear", his decorated uniform that he claimed was only for special occasions.

Bucky tilted his head. "What's wrong with it?"

Steve shook his head, mumbled something and looked around the bar he had memorised. Bucky smirked and cupped his face. "That's distracting," Steve finally muttered as he eyed the suit. He'd always liked Bucky in uniform. Bucky smiled at this, proudly, and examined his clothes.

"What, this old thing?"

Steve rolled his eyes and cupped the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss. Bucky smiled and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He huffed as Steve tugged on the strands of his hair and gently broke away.

"What?" Steve brushed his hair away from his eyes. Bucky's hair was growing a little long -- he'd need it trimmed soon.

"Thought I heard something," he muttered and frowned, off in his thoughts. Steve took his hands and met his eyes.

"Hey. One day we won't have to hide," he soothed. Bucky looked at him, unconvinced.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve hushed. "We'll find some apartment in New York, maybe, after this war's over, and we can get a dog."

"Mm -- "

"A cat, then. You always liked cats. We can name it... "

"Dot." Bucky thought for a moment. "And if we don't make it that far, Stevie? What if this is all the time we get?"

Steve gave his hands a brief squeeze and smiled sadly. "I'll cherish any time I get to spend with you."

"Doll -- " Bucky groaned and hung his head, his face red. "That's... so... Ugh, you're so cute."

Steve smiled as he watched him and shrugged a little. Bucky looked back up and kissed him again.

He didn't want time to pass. He wanted to stay here, in this moment, with the only one he loved. He wanted to be with Steve regardless of what the law said.

"You're one hell of a guy, Rogers," he mumbled as he kissed him again. Steve held him close.

"You too, Buck."

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"That isn't appropriate."

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Of course they were arguing shirtless. Steve had just been getting dressed and, well, Bucky felt left out. He happened to walk in as Steve was changing his shirt, and Steve had gotten frustrated with the lack of privacy.

After all, he was, of course, straight, and not at all falling in love with his gay best friend and roommate.

Right? That's what he thought, at least.

Well. He was a little wrong on both accounts.

"Steve, I'm sorry," he said, exasperated. Steve put his hands on his hips and looked out into the city, an orange hue cast over the world. "Try closing your door."

"It's the principle of things," Steve insisted as he turned to face him. "That's my room and -- I was getting dressed!" he hissed, leaning closer. Bucky frowned.

"You think that -- what -- just because I'm gay -- "

"I never said that and you know it," Steve snapped.

"I said I was sorry, Steve." Bucky looked away, annoyed. "Don't even see why it matters," he grumbled and Steve took a step closer.

"Excuse me?"

Bucky whirled on him. "Remember Christmas Eve?" Steve's eyes darkened a little as his cheeks flushed red. Bucky scrutinised him with narrowed eyes. "May I remind you that you kissed me."

"That's not how I remember it."

Bucky scoffed and stepped closer. Steve held his ground as Bucky stepped up to him, mere inches apart.

"Of course it isn't," he murmured as he hesitantly took his hands. Steve paused, not moving away, but not making a move either. Bucky began to lean up and Steve felt butterflies in his chest.

"That isn't appropriate," he tried to murmur before their lips touched. Bucky gently kissed him and wrapped his arms around his waist, and after a second Steve kissed back and cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer.

Bucky's hands came to rest against his chest and Steve slowly pulled away, eyes wide. "I'm... sorry, I -- "

Bucky shook his head and Steve searched his face, looking a little perplexed. "I'm... this makes me gay, right? If I like you?"

Bucky smiled a little, amused. "What do you think?"

Steve considered it. "Is -- is there a word for kind of gay?" Bucky tilted his head and thought.

"Bisexual is attracted to both men and women," he answered as he looked at him. "But that's up to you to figure out, Steve."

Steve stepped away and took a breath, nodding. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"Me too, I really didn't mean to barge in like that." He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks heating up. He nodded again and went quiet as he thought. Bucky cleared his throat and stepped out, hesitating at the door. "I'd, uh, better..."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, still thinking. Steve smiled at him apologetically. "Sorry, I just -- "

"I understand." Steve needed time to figure this out, and Bucky's presence wouldn't make that any easier. He quietly stepped out and closed the door behind him, and took a breath, then pumped a fist in the air.

Steve smiled to himself as he heard Bucky give a hushed cheer before retreating. Maybe this could work for them.

Steve had fallen for his gay best friend and roommate, and no. He was not straight.

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I've missed writing so much! But I'm back, finally!