Pierdut(lost)

S E N S I B I L I T A T E

tenderness

/ˈtendərnəs,ˈtendərnəs/

noun

1.gentleness and kindness.

2.feelings of deep affection; devotion.

***

It was 1:00 in the afternoon and Steve and Bucky were seated alone in Steve's room. The shutters were closed and the lights were dim.

Steve was gracefully draped on the bed, feet towards the flat screen and Bucky's head was in his lap. It took alot of trust for Bucky to do this, so Steve used all of his will power to not touch the hair. Even if it looked soft enough run his fingers through and de-tangle in seconds. He tried to pay attention to the movie.

Bucky was gazing discreetly up at Steve through his long eyelashes. The light of the old movie illuminated all of his features beautifully, even if he was seeing him from a not so beautiful angle. He could watch him all day. So he did.

***

"Cap, you're needed." The message was a simple three words, but they worried Steve. A mission, so soon? He had almost forgotten that no one else knew about Bucky being with him and they wouldn't let him off of the hook without an explanation. An explanation he couldn't give.

"Stay here. I'm going to see what they want. If I'm not back, don't come looking for me." Steve sternly said, pulling a T-shirt on that was definitely too small for him. Not that Bucky was complaining. Woah, what? Bucky blinked fervently. "Ok. I won't go anywhere." He rasped. He was pretty thirsty.

***

It had been about an hour before Bucky started to worry. Didn't he say he would be right back? Where was he? It had been over one hour!
Where
Was
He??

***

Steve's leg jogged under the table. He didn't know what the hell they were talking about, didn't really care either. He was concerned about how long it was taking. "You know, for some reason, I get the feeling that I'm not being listened to." Tony turned away from the digital GPS in the air, placing his hands away from it. Natasha glanced at Steve. He glanced back. "Can you wrap this up? I have things to do, people to glare at." She leaned back in her chair, the squeak resounding. Tony furrowed his brows. "From the top now!" He announced, turning back to the GPS.

"In Romania, there have been reports of suspicious activity. And no, not just any activity, superhero-sized activity." Tony zoomed in on the country, red thumbtacks popping up. "HYDRA activity." Steve interjected, suddenly interested. "Maybe? We don't know all the information yet. The main points are coincidentally out of my dipping pool, so cameras are practically useless. We need actual human investigation." Tony tapped into his closest CCTV points, where giant red thumbtacks peeked just out of view. Steve smiled. "I'll do it."

***

"Where were you?" Bucky quietly growled. Steve recoiled in surprise. Where did this come from? "I was so worried, Steven Grant Rogers! You were gone over an hour and you didn't even tell me where you were going! Explain yourself!" He exploded, eyes clouded. Steve finally realized; Bucky was relapsing. On the bed was a pile of clothes, taken out of garment bags and strewn across the king sized, that were relics from the Captain America museum. Bucky's fatigues from the 107th, Bucky's Howling Commando uniform. The original Captain America showgirl costume. It was no wonder that Bucky's brain had went haywire; there were lots of memories in those clothes.

"I was off on at a meeting remember? I told you before I left, Buck." Steve softly sat his friend down, rubbing his shoulder. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows and huffed in frustration. He doesn't remember. "It's ok, Bucky. Do you know where you are?" He said in a hushed voice. Bucky thought for a few minutes. "This is your apartment, right?" He breathed. Steve smiled sadly. "No, this is Stark Tower, in 2017." He softly squeezed his shoulder. Bucky looked down at his lap.

(Quick note! I know that it isn't actually 2017, but I made it 2017 because I wanted to!¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

***

After his relapse, Bucky decided to call it a day and go to sleep. But by sleep, he meant laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't sleep alone anymore, especially after what happened with Steve. He couldn't risk it when Steve wouldn't put him down when it called for it. But he needed to sleep. He was so tired.. Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. His eyelids began to slide down...

NO!

No! He would not sleep, not with Steve there. He would wait, wait until Steve was by his side, to calm his nightmares. Then, and only then, would he "go to sleep". He shot up like a firework and got out of bed. Maybe exercising would wake him up, keep him awake until Steve came to bed.

He quietly fell into a plank position and began to do push-ups, wisps of hair waving in his face. After his 75th, sweat began to roll off of his back and down his arms. The t-shirt on his back began cling to his skin. His breaths became laboured. He collapsed to the ground, panting. That didn't work at all.

***

"How's he doing?" The text sent. Natasha popped the gum in her mouth. Three ellipses blipped across the screen for a minute before another message popped up. "He's doing just fine, Natasha. How are you?"  Natasha frowned. "What is it? What'd he say?" Clint peeped over her shoulder. Natasha slapped her phone screen against her chest, hiding it. "None of your business, birdbrain. It's not important anyway." She smoothly recovered, placing the phone in her pocket. "What's the next store? Are there anymore baby stores?" She distracted him, pointing at a map directory. Clint squinted and tapped his hearing aid. A nervous tick. "I think there's a store coming up if we go here and here." He babbled, haphazardly pointing across the map. Natasha was already walking.

"When is the mission going to be? Next month?" Steve inquired hushedly, leaned forward in his seat. The phone lightly buzzed with every one of Natasha's words. "I'm thinking more like next week, Rogers." Steve blinked in surprise. "Next week?! Ok, ok. How long are you-" "Look, I have to go. We're leaving next week." The phone emitted a small beep. Was he outta his damn mind? Why in the world would he sign up for a mission, especially with what was happening right now?! "Is everything ok, Steve?" Bucky asked in a small voice. Steve forced a smile and nodded. "Just business." He lied.

Bucky nodded in response and ran his hand through his sweaty hair, not completely trusting Steve's words. Steve's breath hitched. No, no. Thirsting isn't how I can help right now, focus Rogers. Goddamnit! He swallowed thickly. But the ripples in Bucky's muscle didn't stop. He couldn't stop himself from imagining how smooth running his hands over that muscle would feel; how it would feel to kiss each section on his face. Goddamnit. Bucky cleared his throat, noticing Steve staring at him, and snapped in front of him. "Eyes up, soldier." He playfully, instructed. Steve shook his head and cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

***

That Sunday, Steve tried and failed to keep his mind off of the impending mission. Chances were that it would be a long one, because most Intel missions were long missions. They were going to be sprinkled into different blind spots and going undercover. The blind spots just so happened to be regular buildings that were seemingly abandoned. Super suspicious. Personally, Steve preferred just going in and kicking ass, but he knew that gathering information usually led to a fight, in which he might be needed. Even so, he would've joined in regardless because, secretly, Steve loved the fight. Even the idea of pummeling a Hydra goon, or even a boss, pumped him up with enough energy to invade the big base on his own. He knew why the man had waited before killing him instantly that night. He wanted the big kill. He only knew that because the feeling possessed him as well. And hopefully, at the end of the impending mission, there would be one less man with that feeling. Steve narrowed his eyes. He had his eyes on the prize.