Sb&j sandwich (or steve/tj from 2ta if you’d rather). Renting a cabin in the woods during the first snowfall of the season

brendaonao3:

It’s quiet up in the mountains.  Reminds TJ of summers spent with his grandfather in Virginia, the way the quiet seems to sink into the very air.  But country quiet is different – filled with the low hum of cicadas at night, leaves rustling, the lone howl of a wolf or the hoot of nearby owls.  Up here above the tree line, nestled under a blanket of snow, everything seems still.  Pristine.  Like the world’s been remade, brand-new.

Bucky and Steve seem to revel in it.  They’ve spent hours sitting out on the porch together, neither of them talking or moving, just watching the fat white flakes drifting from the sky with almost childlike glee.  (Contrary to popular belief, neither one of them minds the cold.  In fact, the getaway had been Bucky’s idea.)  TJ’s come out to join them a few times, but he doesn’t run as hot as a furnace on high blast, so those times are few and far between.  But he doesn’t mind leaving them to do their thing while he stays inside, where it’s nice and cozy, reading his way through a thick stack of actual, physical books.

Most of the time, they spend together: either in the overlarge bed, tangled together so close even TJ has trouble figuring how which body part belongs to whom, or lounging together in the living room under thick fleece blankets and trading stories, some funny, some tragic, but equally embraced.  And, day by day, the shadows retreat from Bucky’s eyes, the heavy weight from Steve’s shoulders, and the anxious coil from TJ’s nerves.  The days and nights blend together, filled with laughter and kisses, with touches and murmurs and the rock-solid bond they all have with each other.