Or maybe in the war when they couldn’t risk anything more and Steve could just not stop kissing Bucky soft and sweet when he’s tired and sore from a long day it’s fierce and biting and sloppy when they just missed a bomb or a near miss with a sniper that was just a second too slow. Like Steve didn’t exist except where Bucky touched him nothing more than lips under him and skin under Bucky’s rough hands.
Sometimes Steve would have to hold his head in place because otherwise he wanders nips and kisses along Steve’s jaw almost worshipful too painful sometimes that Steve forgets he has the serum and that the breath knocked out of him and the ache in his chest isn’t the asthma it’s only Bucky Bucky Bucky so glad so thankful that they’re both so fucking alive that he has to stop Bucky’s wandering lips and hum into his lovers mouth all the things he could never find the words to say.
But sometimes He’d turn to Bucky, an order away from a Hydra factory or a cache of hydra weapons and smile cheekily and say “kiss for luck?” And Monty would laugh and make lip smacking noises, Dugan offering to take him to the Moulin Rouge next time they’re in Paris. And Jim and Gabe just laughing. Bucky too would laugh, but Steve would see his eye tilt down and he would lick his lips instead of kissing. Maybe if he kissed Bucky before the train…
Because Steve would whisper I love you in the cold Austrian nights and Bucky would nip his earlobe in response, me too. Steve would mutter I’m sorry one cold afternoon later against the stubble on Bucky’s chin and Bucky would dig his fingers into his scalp, you better be. But seventy years later, Steve will open the door and Bucky will fold into his arms murmuring, who is Bucky, and Steve will kiss the crown of his head, welcome welcome home