Who Am I? » [Stucky]

33. Peace In Our Time

"I'm too hot..." Bucky complained indignantly, lulling his floppy head back against the heated park bench and whining like a bored toddler, jiggling his legs in boredom. He scrunched his eyes shut as he tilted his face to the burning sun, the blinding rays trying to sneak into his discomforted eyes in the small gap between the meeting eyelids.

Sunlight was shining bright down on central park, the rectangle of tranquility amongst the bustling noise of New York City, peace at the heart of the storm. They sat by the water with the view of buildings surrounding them like a fence, the towering structures climbing high into the sky; more astounding than they were monstrosities - with their unique industrial charm. You couldn't find buildings like that anywhere else in the world - maybe as tall, but never the same.

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Steve asked in all seriousness, looking over at Bucky. "I'm not a magician."

"Remind me why we're here again?" Bucky drawled in a tone thick with annoyance and dissatisfaction, sweat gathering on his flaccid and moist upper lip, slick muscular abdomen and the indent in his back, dripping in rivulets.

"Because you said the flat was like a sweat-shop in the bustling market of the backend of New Delhi."

"Ah yes..." Bucky sighed, his limbs sagging even more. He felt like a lion in a savannah, caught in the heat and drying out like a cactus. His skin was itching with the heat upon it and he felt restricted in his jumper - which Steve had made him wear because apparently his 'metal arm isn't exactly inconspicuous'. "Can't we at least get an ice cream?" He blew out another deep breath in exasperation.

"I thought you didn't want one?" Steve glared at him in accusation, peering over the black arched rims of his dimmed RayBan Aviators.

"I want one now... The sun was in before..." He complained.

"What do you want..?" Steve was like a waitress poised to take his order like the generous man he was.

"A 99 would be great..." Bucky threw a cocky grin at Steve, tilting his head as he attempted to smile angelically - but it just came out as sarcastic and devilish.

"I really do think you take advantage of me sometimes..." Steve huffed, swinging his legs and getting up from the seat and strolling across the green to the chiming ice cream van playing out classical children's songs - the type that you'd sing at nursery.

Bucky twisted in the bench to watch Steve walk away, his arms folded and hooked over the back of the seat. He observed attentively as the blond soldier's hips swung obscenely as he sauntered away, he eyed up his pert arse cheeks in those cargo shorts and admired the view of Steve's built back muscles taut in the tight t-shirt. He did truly have the astounding impossible shoulder to waist ratio of a Greek god; his build defied gravity - an architect or skilled sculptor would decline a commissioned statue of his form for fear of it not supporting itself with the distribution of the body.

He had a view that couldn't get any better.

Bucky felt guilty for looking at his friend in such a way. Steve was blissfully unaware of the inappropriate thoughts stirring in the chambers of Bucky's mind, the feelings of unrequited love that sat in Bucky's heart or the admiration that glowed in Bucky's blue eyes.

There was so much Bucky loved about Steve; he would be there for an infinitum if he was to count the ways. To name just a few: he loved Steve's laugh - an adorable chirp like giggle; honest and bold, he loved Steve's smile - pure and white. He loved Steve's eyes - deep and lively. Sometimes he wished he could tell Steve all of those things; but he knew that if Steve was ever to find out he could ruin their friendship forever; and after everything Bucky had lost, he couldn't afford to lose Steve too. That would be a loss not worth living through.