wearingthestars | For Sinistral

"Novel idea." He tried not to smile too much at the fantasy his mind conjured up. Hell, forget the tank. Not that Bucky would ever be interested in him that way outside of Billy's mind.

Billy hesitated to take the jacket, a protest on his lips that he knew was pointless, because 1. Bucky would insist, and 2. He was a super soldier, he was probably better engineered to survive the cold than Billy. But still...it felt wrong.

"...Are you sure?" he asked, feeling the warmth between his fingers, and the pleasant weight of the jacket that was probably nothing to Bucky.

"'t is, isn't it?" God, if only.

Bucky was ready to argue any protest down but instead he watched as Billy capitulated and put on the jacket. It didn't fit; Bucky's shoulders were far too broad. But Bucky discovered right then and there that he had a very specific kink, namely Billy wearing his clothes and looking at him with those eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he murmured, a hand reaching out to tweak the collar into place. He caught himself a moment later, the hand falling away. "I'm sure. If we move fast we should be there in about two hours. We'll get a fire going, it'll be fine. C'mon, this way."

The oversized fit made Billy flush. With Bucky's heat still clinging to the jacket, and his scent floating around him it felt a bit like being wrapped up inside the other man's arms.

He ducked his head with a shy smile and nodded, hardly registering that he was casually agreeing to a minimum two hour hike.

"You should take the gloves," he insisted, trying to hand them over. "I can put my hands in the pockets."

Hopefully the hike wouldn't be too bad. Bucky planned to take the most direct route, considering that the snow would erase their tracks. He wasn't above carrying Billy either, if it got to be too much.

He thought about arguing the gloves too but finally just took them and tugged them on. It'd make Billy happy, that was what mattered right now. "If the wind kicks up too bad we're holding hands," he warned. "I don't want to get separated."

If his weather estimate was correct, only the very last leg of the hike would be bad, with terrain and weather both. They'd tackle it when they got there.

He laughed softly, and he'd blame the flush that spread over his cheeks on the chill. "Afraid I'll just go flying off?" Billy teased, as though he didn't understand the real risk if the wind were to pick up and obscure their vision. Out here if Billy got lost he wouldn't last long without Bucky.

"Assuming we get out of here, I might have to cave and start going for runs with you. Might've been leaning too hard on the magic, huh?"

"Doom's snatched you from me once," he warned. Though they'd made a good escape, and he felt that their luck would continue from here. Doom was good, but he'd never faced an angry Winter Soldier.

"Who ever thought you'd be without it?" he countered. "But I can help train your endurance, if that's what you're asking." He took Billy's hand then, even though the wind hadn't kicked up yet. Maybe Billy could take some of his strength like that — a foolish, hopeful thought. "Just a walk in the woods. You can do this."

Billy didn't acknowledge the lack of wind, though he could have easily teased him in that moment he was afraid if he did then Bucky would pull his hand away again.

He gave a breathless smile and nodded, "...I can do this," he echoed.

Good thing Billy didn't tease. Bucky liked how their hands fit together and he definitely didn't want to talk about it. Blaming it on survival made things easier for now.

"See? You can. Now c'mon, this way." As straight a path as possible, not smooth terrain but not the worst. Bucky walked a little ahead so Billy could follow in his wake, hopefully shielded from the growing storm as much as possible by Bucky's own body. In places he stopped to help Billy over obstacles, even bodily lifting him up at one point but still pushing on relentlessly. Unless Billy called for a break, he didn't want to stop.

On his own Billy would have stopped long before he finally slowed, but he felt an embarrassingly strong desire to impress Bucky. One that felt especially stupid in moments where he had to be bodily helped over obstacles. (But GOD, he didn't know how much his body would respond to being picked up with such easy before today either.)

He clearly didn't want to admit he needed a break, trying to distract himself with idly chatter, though eventually it felt as though he had weights strapped to his feet.

Bucky could tell when Billy started to struggle. Still he pressed them, because every step they took was a step closer to shelter, to warmth and safety, to getting Billy bundled up into the bed in the little cabin.

Eventually though he knew he had to stop, before Billy fell right over. He'd had a long trying day even before the escape; Bucky should've tried to get them closer before they'd abandoned the jeep. He stopped, tugging Billy first to his side before bending to sweep him into his arms, cloak wrapped around him like a blanket.

"No complaints," he preemptively murmured, eyes fixed ahead. "Stay awake and keep talking. Tell me a story if you have to."

"Wh- hey woah-" Billy protested in surprise, cheeks going very red, and he swallowed thickly as Bucky very clearly set the terms.

"Bu-" he started, squirming uselessly before accepting he was stuck until Bucky decided to put him down again. He couldn't tell how much of that flustered feeling in his stomach was embarrassment and how much was being weirdly turned on.

"...What am I, your radio?" he teased finally, laying his cheek against Bucky's chest and letting himself relax. "...did I tell you the one where we broke into Avenger's Mansion yet?"

Edited 2022-03-20 01:53 (UTC)

"You're my friend," he answered, because Bucky had to force himself not to think of Billy as something more. Billy didn't want that from him; their flirting was just in good fun. "And we can move faster like this." He didn't mean it as an insult. Terrain and weather were both obstacles he could overcome. And he did indeed start moving faster.

"Got fond memories of listenin' to the radio," he play-grumbled. God this was nice; he wished they could be curled on a couch together instead, Billy in his arms spinning stories. "Don't think I've heard that one."

Friend. He felt further heat burn his cheeks, and he mentally scolded himself for any thoughts of them being anything more.

"So, it was a while back, when we were all just starting out, and I was even more dumb than I am now-" Billy started, happily, more than able to help pass the time by telling embarrassing stories from his 'youth'.

If they could be something more—

But no, Bucky couldn't let himself think like that. He needed to focus on getting Billy to safety, not how good Billy felt in his arms.

"Don't be badmouthing my guy," he grumbled, focused more on navigating an icy patch than on what he said. But enjoying Billy's stories? Easy as pie.

My guy. God. Billy half forgot what he was saying for a moment, cheeks warm, and carried on with his story after a short delay.

By the time he was running out of stories even Bucky's coat and body heat wasn't enough to hold back the chill, and he shivered guiltily, sure it must be worse for his friend.

"Are we close?"

Bucky's hold tightened on Billy after feeling that shiver. It couldn't be comfortable, being held for so long and Bucky's arm a huge heatsink. But the cabin wasn't far; Bucky could see it through the snow, less than a mile.

"Few more minutes. Can see it, but don't look up, you'll only get snow in your face." True to its promise the storm had arrived with all its glory, wind and snow and cold. Bucky would be glad to get out of it. "Head down, deep breaths. I'm gonna jog us there, it's gonna get bumpy for you."

The sooner he got Billy indoors and got the fire started for both of them, the better. Even he could feel the weather's chill settling in deep. Fortunately the terrain between their current position and the cabin didn't contain any weird hazards; Bucky navigated it easily and soon ushered Billy inside to lock the door behind them.

The cabin itself was small but clean: most of the space went to the main room, with a pair of plain armchairs and a platform bed. A stone fireplace took up most of one wall. The opposite side of the cabin held a small bathroom and a kitchenette, neither fancy but adequate enough. A table folded against the wall, with two simple wooden chairs pushed against it. Heavy curtains covered the windows — heavier than usual, blackout material that not only provided insulation, but blocked most of the light seepage in or out.

Bucky immediately crossed to the fireplace; he'd stacked wood and kindling inside before he left, so all he'd need to do was light it. "Did your clothes get wet?"

It felt almost strange to be back on his own two feet, and Billy laughed a little as he shook off some of the snow that had built up during the jog, the ends of his hair curling. Bucky had protected him from the worst of it, but he was definitely damp. He shrugged off Bucky's jacket and his cloak, both weighed down with melted snow, and nodded as he looked himself over.

"A bit," he confirmed. One side of him at least

The fire caught successfully, and Bucky blew gently on the flame to spread it to the paper he'd stuffed among the kindling. Soon enough the kindling caught too, and started to spread to the more solid logs.

"We'll have to get you out of them," he replied, the colored a little as he realized how that sounded. Clearly having Billy in his arms for so long made too much of an impression! "I mean. The shower isn't the worst, and I grabbed some clothes for you."

Billy flushed too and nodded. It was totally for practical reasons. Only... he glanced down at his suit with a frown. He usually magicked it on and off. It didn't really have a way to pull off naturally. No zippers, no fasteners, and too tight to wriggle out of.

"Do...you have a knife or something?" he asked, trying very hard not to think how this could play out under fantasy settings.

"Of course I have— oh." The implications of why Billy asked for a knife caught up to him as Bucky glanced up, unable to hide the once over he gave Billy's outfit. He admired that outfit on the regular, with the way it hugged Billy's body, but he'd never really noticed the lack of fasteners.

His expression softened and he straightened up from his crouch by the fire. Billy had been through enough today; he could offer his help in a purely platonic way. "I can do you one better. You trust me?"

That once over make Billy's cheek burn, but still, he nodded without hesitation at that question.
"Of course I do," he answered easily. He trusted Bucky with his life.

His head did tilt a little, not sure what it was Bucky was offering, but trusting 100% regardless as he tried to scrub the blush from his cheeks with the side of his palm.

Bucky determinedly ignored that blush and how he wanted to see how far down it went. Did it stain Billy chest as well? Bring heat to Billy's skin? Not questions he should ask.

He pulled a knife from the sheath at his hip, flipping the handle around his fingertips out of habit before stepping behind his companion. This would be a lot easier to offer if they didn't have to look at each other. "Just guide where you want me to cut." He was steady enough to avoid marring Billy's skin.

Oh.

Billy swallowed thickly, wetting his lips and hating how he could hear his breath shudder once he managed to get it out. This was possibly the hottest thing that had ever happened. He furiously tried to calm himself down. It was platonic. Purely platonic.

"The um- along the back here," Billy managed reaching back to gesture, glad he didn't have to look at Bucky as he said it because he could feel how hot his face was, "...where a zipper would be,:

"Look, I've seen zippers in some really weird places," he joked. "Besides, could probably cut around the waist too, try to make shirt and pants." He paused, considering. "Or not, I think you're right in getting it off from the back."

Mostly because Bucky didn't trust himself if he had to actually face Billy right now.

He put a hand on Billy's hip to steady himself more than anything else; being this close was torture. "Let me know when you're ready."

He laughed softly, ducking his head and pressing his lips together. Billy drew in a slow breath to calm himself after feeling that steady weight at his hip, imagination conjuring up all sort of filthy ideas.

"...I'm ready."

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